Paria Shahir (9) | STAFF REPORTER
Hiding under the desk, wondering how I ended up here, I’m so tall I must slide into a position with my chin touching my chest. Looking up, I see the fuzzy bottoms of my drawers gnawing upon me, and those strange metal rods that seem to make drawers work and whirr.
It’s a Friday evening of course, because my bed is unmade, and a sweater is lying within a heap of blankets in case I get cold. Ahead of my bed, my huge threadbare red slippers keeping my feet cozy lead my gaze up my legs and to my stomach. The effects of the after-school treat I indulged in earlier are noticeable.
I can make out my bedside table from here. On top of the table, queued up are the vitamins I should be taking daily, and I am certainly planning on starting to do so. I see my hairbrush reclined against the walls of a ceramic coffee mug, almost black with all the hair stuck between its teeth that I plan to clean. I see another coffee mug of the same colour. I am planning on taking it down to the kitchen soon. The little slouchy bag wedged underneath the table reminds me that the floor is vividly visible, with the multiple layers of dust covering it which I am planning to vacuum. Am I seriously lying down on this dirty floor?
***
In the corner of the ceiling, wondering how I ended up here, I realize I’ve turned into a sly spider and no one can tell that my tiny black eyes are observing the entire room. Why not start weaving a spider web that would get me down to the ground safely? As I descend, I pass by smudged fingerprints on the walls. From my odd perspective, the floor and the walls are as if they have been stretched out. The black chair is roaming on the wooden ice rink on my floor. The decorations on my white desk look very distant; my eyes discern that they are having a secret tea party, and no spiders are welcome. The fat green bird pours a cup of tea for her guests as my flimsy legs finally alight from the delicate web onto the ground.
***
Looking into the room from outside the window, wondering how I ended up here, I shiver from the cold. I wish I had the sweater that’s now slowly plunging into the blankets. Yet, I don’t think that would make me feel warm enough though. I wish I had the sweater plus the jacket hung from the back of the door. However, I still don’t believe that they would make me feel warm enough; I think I would like to become the sweater and to slowly melt into my bed, becoming one with the blankets.
The back of my computer is observable through the window. It’s like a whole world of wires and lights I had never thought of exploring before. Other than the computer, I can see the room with all its details from behind the window as well. I see my mirror, the components of my pencil case, and my dirty clothes. I should keep the curtains shut and the lights off from now on.
***
My hands duct taped to the ceiling, wondering how I ended up here, I am finally warm because my body is covering the lights. The room is dim for that reason. No, it isn’t like a downtown coffee shop with brown and burgundy furniture and colorful street art with a convex mirror on the walls. It only appears whiter and paler than ever. I turn my head, my eyes bulging out from fear, to see the duct tapes hindering blood from circulating through my hands and feet. They aren’t tenacious enough, I should expect to find myself on the floor imminently.
The notion brings my heart racing down, my eyes are lolling now, a new way of sensing apprehension. If I fall, it would be like a vertigo, like being lost within a hurricane of feelings; I wouldn’t know when to cry, because I wouldn’t know if I should feel hurt, sad, exhausted, or simply lose my consciousness. My eyes are now closed fantasizing about the fall. Would I break my nose or my head, or both?
***
It’s a Friday evening, because I just woke up from a long nap, drowsily wondering how I ended up here, and my silly dream has escaped my recollections entirely.
