Huh?

Wait…

Something’s not right. Somethings different now. What…? What is it?

Nothing. I let it go and drift deeper. Wait… There it is again.

Pulling at me. Nagging. Disturbing. I try to ignore it and return to the peace of before.

But I can’t. It’s incessant. Pulling, pushing, tugging on and on. What is it? It seems familiar, yet not.

Something.

Something.

Something…

I HEAR something.

“James.”

I open my eyes. Slow I sit up and look around me.

Nothing. Nothing to my right. Nothing to my left. Nothing but white.

A room. An empty room. Empty except for the bed I am sitting in. A beautiful bed, though white as well. Covered in a beautiful white comforter. Soft and warm to the touch.

I look around the room. Slower this time. Searching for something, for a sign of anything.

Again, I see nothing. Nothing but white.

The room seems to be quite big, though empty of all but the bed.

And me.

“What do you think of your room?” A man’s voice. Dreamy, even sleepy.

Again, I look around the room. This time searching for the source of the voice. From wall to wall and even the wall behind me.

Still nothing. And… No one.

“Room?” I whisper.

“Yes. How do you like it?”

Slowly I ease myself out of the bed. Standing I look around once more.

I am alone. At least it seemed so.

“Well?”

“It’s just a room.” I reply.

“Ah. I see.”

Somehow I got the feeling that the owner of that voice was disappointed.

“Where are you?” I asked.

There was no answer.

“Hello? Where are you?” 

There was still no answer. No matter what I asked nor what I said the voice never responded.

I began to wander around the room. From corner to corner and wall to wall. There were no doors or windows. Nothing blemished even an inch of the pure white walls.

After some time I returned to my spot at the bed. Laying down I stared at the ceiling, my mind it’s reflection. Blank.

It was a female voice that woke me this time. Soft and beautiful, yet demanding. 

“Wake” it said.

I opened my eyes and looked around, without leaving the bed.

She sat leisurely upon a white couch on the opposite side of the room. Her eyes drifted sadly from place to empty place around the room, till they settled upon me in my bed.

“So, James. How are you feeling today?”

Feeling? What an odd question. I said as much to her.

“Odd? I am not sure that there have ever been any odd questions. How do you feel?” Her voice seemed as sad as her eyes.

I did not know how to respond to her. I wasn’t sure myself how I was feeling. I felt that I might not be feeling anything; whether I had ever truly felt a thing.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Moments passed as I stared at her and she at me.

Finally she sighed, disappointment in her voice.

“Well, then… Tell me about that picture.”

Another odd request. Picture? There were no pictures in this room. I had been over it many times and had never come across a picture.

I looked at her questioningly.

She smiled, slightly, for the first time and her gaze drifted slowly to the left of my bed.

I turned to follow her gaze and was greeted to something else new to my bland room.

An elegant nightstand, and upon it sat a picture frame.

Sitting up quickly I turned to her, surprise in my eyes, only to be surprised even more.

She was no longer sitting on the couch, though the couch remained.

I looked around the room for any sign of my missing visitor but she was no longer to be found.

I walked to the couch, mostly to make sure that it actually existed.

It was soft and comfortable, inviting me to relax; perhaps to stretch out, leisurely, upon it as she had.

Ignoring the comfort of the couch and its invitation, I turned my attention back to the nightstand and the picture frame upon it.

From where I sat the picture was quite indistinct. It could be a picture of anything.

I stood and crossed the room to have a closer examination of this new arrival but as I approached the nightstand a sense of melancholy began to come over me; the second time I had felt anything since opening my eyes.

Within the ornate frame was nothing, just more of the same thing that covered everything else in this room. White. A blank white space.

Returning to my bed I lay down and close my eyes, seeking the peace of sleep to escape the sadness that had overcome me.

“Good morning, James.”

It was a new voice that roused me from my sleep. A hardy, masculine voice.

Sitting up, I was greeted by a new visitor to my room.

A man. Tall and graceful; neither young nor old. A handsome and cheery looking man.

He smiled at me expectantly.

I stared at him for a moment, and another, not sure what to say to this newcomer.

“Morning?” I responded, hesitantly. Until this moment I had not considered the time of day. Had any time passed since that first voice had stirred me from my sleep? I did not know.

He chuckled, slightly, and stared intently at me.

“Yes, morning. Good morning James.”

“Good morning.”

He continued to smile as he looked around the white room.

His gaze stopped somewhere behind and to the right of me.

“So what do you think of the book?”

“Book?” I followed his gaze over my shoulder to the corner of the room.

To a desk. Where this desk had come from I had no idea.

It was a nice desk, gleaming white. Clean and neat.

And a chair. Again white and like the couch it looked exceedingly comfortable, as if it were more appropriate for sleeping than sitting.

Upon this magnificent desk sat a book.

I climbed out of the bed and walked over to the book, with a short glance at the smiling man.

Picking up the book I turned it this way and that, examining every inch of its surface. It was a well bound, handsome book, appearing neither old nor new. It felt wonderful in my hands.

There was no title on the cover or the spine.

I looked back over my shoulder, questioningly, to the man.

And like my previous visitor he was gone.

But the book remained and it drew my attention away from the question of where he had gone so I sat and began to read.

It was a wondrous book! Full of adventure and love, pain and hope. It moved me like nothing had since I had opened my eyes.

Reading it, at moments, I both laughed and cried. Every character came alive in my mind, every place I had been. All of the precious moments and even the hateful events, were mine.

Once done I felt that I had lived every chapter, every paragraph, and every word myself.

As I finished the last sentence I began to cry, then sob. The tears rained down on my face. It was as if with the ending of this marvelous book, my life too, was ending.

I am not sure how long I sat at that desk reading that book. It seemed like forever, yet not nearly long enough. I yearned to experience all of those moments again.

Nothing in this room of white, this room with no doors or windows could compare to the life I had led within the pages of that book.

So I flipped it open to the first page to begin the adventure again.

But the pages were now blank. White. As was the book, itself. All white on white like the room I found myself in.

Again I began to cry, softly to myself, for there was only myself, alone in this blank room, with this blank book.

After reading the book I became acutely aware of the passage of time, or so it seemed. There was no true way for me to count the hours and minutes, lacking a clock or any other time keeping device, yet the hours seemed to drag on.

I took to pacing the room, restlessly, remembering the pages of that book and aching to read and flip its pages once more.

Eventually I grew tired and returned to my bed, to seek the peace of slumber. Laying down I closed my eyes and attempted to push thoughts of the book out of my racing mind.

But it was not to be, the peace I sought would not come. Something had changed within me, though I was not sure what.

A new emotion began to emerge within me. Confusion. It began to engulf me and along with it the melancholy returned, pulling me down to a murky despair.

Tears began to spring to me eyes once more as the solace of sleep finally took me.

I dreamt. I dreamt of a beautiful woman with sad eyes who asked me over and over how I felt, her voice gentle but unrelenting, her eyes pleading for an answer I did not have.

I turned to run, to escape her gaze and her questions, but her voice stopped me in my tracks. The dream stilled, every sound and motion fading, until her words hung in the air like a challenge:

“Don’t you want something more?”

Her question echoed, reverberating through me like the toll of a bell.

My eyes snapped open.

And for the first time, I understood.

Longing. It wasn’t despair or confusion—it was longing. I longed for something more, more than this room, these walls, this existence I had accepted without question.    

All of the moments in this room had brought me to this moment. All of the visitors and their questions helped to guide me to this point. 

I realized that everything around me was of my own choice and my own creation. It was as I saw it and how I wanted it to be, not realizing that there could possibly be anything more.

My eyes had finally, truly, opened. I knew what I must do and how to do it.

So… I opened the door.