by Naomi Hope
A short composition that employs the use of imagery to describe a perfect place.
|Creeping up 26 squeaking mahogany steps there was a door. Clad in Smashing Pumpkin posters, yellow edges peeling away from dried and cracking tape. The door stood tall but with the slightest weakness; its upper hinges were missing two screws on the outside, thus leaning to the right at a slight angle. There was an ominous feeling about it, as if at any moment it could rip from the frame and go tumbling down the stairs just to end up in splintered, wooden shards.
To the left and the right of the door were old oak bookcases, almost matching the stairs but not exactly. They were overflowing with old dusty trophies and plaques, ignored and forgotten for years. A young boy's shoe lay beside one of the small fallen trophies. Opening the door, oh so carefully as to not put any more strain on the remaining hinges, there was a large pillow in the middle of the room. Worn and torn in some places from being used and abused. The pillow was alone in the room apart from a small trunk off to the side near a back window.
The room was dark and dusty, having been abandoned long before but it still had that hint of mystery that it would always have. There was one wall; the rest of the semicircular room was made of windows looking out into the horizon from the upper story of a personal observatory. The sun was falling, casting a dim purple light over the land, it was beautiful. Looking off to the left, from the middle of the room, one could see miles and miles of pastures just rolling into the east but if they were to turn one-hundred-eighty degrees and look to the west there would be a lake, turning a reddish hue from the light of the setting sun.
These sights were inspiring, yes, but by turning 90 degrees toward the south there would be nothing but sky. The building stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea and at night the only things that could be seen were the lights in the sky, the twinkling stars. All of these things merged into one at the building. Earth met water, water met sky, and the Earth embraced the sky like there was no separating them, they would forever be a part of each other. With the sun setting faster, candles would be lit since there were no lamps. Combined with the purple hue from the setting sun and the flickering orange light casting shadows around the room, the day looked to be ending and beginning at the same time. The candles made the sun look as it was rising even though it wasn't. The room stopped time for that brief moment before the sun disappeared below the horizon and the stars covered the sky like the sand on a beach, some dancing across the sky, all falling in unison.
While inside the room one could lose all feeling of their worldly being because everything blends together and becomes a whole, nothing can call itself an instance of the universe because it becomes the universe. Time stood still as the chirping crickets came alive and sang their melodies as their fellow fireflies danced the ancient dance of time. This Room was time, beauty, and knowledge all in one. This room was the beginning, and the middle, and the end of everything. Time froze as everything merged together, stars dance with the planets, light marries with darkness, land becomes water, water becomes sky; everything melts.