To Shield Me from EvilA Story by Walker AndreasenThis is more of a short movie that I wrote in my head that I tried to convey through words like this since I'm not in the movie making business.To Shield Me From Evil
A Fictional short
story by Walker Andreasen
The
lights flashed on. But then I realized; they had been on all along. I had
just woken up. The white brick walls of the room which I lay in were
claustrophobic. The florescent lights added the very light blue tint to the
room. It was cold. I looked
down to see what I had been sleeping on. I hadn’t been lying down at all, but,
I had been standing up while I was sleeping. I noticed also, I had no clothes
on. Oh, how it was cold. What is
this room I’m standing in? I turned and looked for a door, but there were none.
I looked at all five walls. Wait, five? I then again looked at the one that
looked like it didn’t belong. I went to it, pushed, nay, shoved, and it opened.
I stepped outside and the wall closed behind me. I looked back and there was
nothing there. I reached out to hopefully touch the room I just came out of.
What I saw had scared me, and I wanted the room to protect me, shelter me from
the scene which lay around me. But I
touched no wall, and just saw more scene. Just hideous, barren land. Dark gray
clouds loomed over head. Where the clouds ended, it met light gray sky. I
looked around and noted the colors. Gray met other shades of gray. It may have
been dull colors in the shade, but they were still gray. Then I saw
a color in the distance. It was not gray. I took a step sideways toward it then
broke into a sprint. I reached where I saw the color but it was gone. I then
heard a young girl giggle and I turned and saw her in the park across the
street. I went to
her. She was the only spark of color, and hope, I saw. She was sitting there,
on the swings humming a random tune, smiling while looking down. In her arms
was a teddy bear. Just as I was about to make my presence known, I reminded
myself I was not clothed and therefore I looked down, and found I was wearing a
garment of some sort. They seemed
like sheets wrapped around me in a togish matter, only more so wrapped. They
too, like the rest of this world, were shades of gray. When I
spoke, my voice seemed so foreign, like something lost and now found centuries
later. The girl
looked up at me, and smiled sadly. “What is
this place?” I asked. “Hm? Oh.
This is your world. Or at least what you have made of it.” She pulled the teddy bear up, and held it close to her
chest. She laid her head on the top of the bears and then looked out into
nothing while a sad grin crossed her face. “How do I
put colors in?” I asked her. “Happy.
Memories.” She said. Then she stood up, and left. I went after her, but she
always seemed so far ahead. I ran, but she still walked, getting farther away.
I finally slowed down. What did
she mean by happy memories? Then I realized where I was: this is where I live,
or rather, where I lived. I went back
to the park and sat on a bench and thought. Then I remembered who that girl
was: My daughter. I wept. But
then I realized what she had said. So I went to the swing set and thought of my
happiest memory there. I’ve lived
in this community my entire life. My happiest memory was when my mother, long
gone and six feet under, took me swinging for the first time at this park. I
was 4 then. She had her usual joint in her mouth, but I always thought they
were cigarettes. I never believed it was pot until I was 17. But it was a happy
memory. I remember her smiling and laughing with me. I looked
back up at the swing set, but it was still an ugly shade of gray. I sighed and
leaned against it. With my mothers smile still in my mind, color started to
spread from under my shoulder. The color spread like a sticky, splattered ink
all across the swing set. Soon, it was the color I remembered it being. Blue
bars, yellow chains, and red seats. The wood chips beneath and around the swing
set gained color to. When I saw
this, I went around through the community bringing trash cans, houses,
everything to life with color. Then I came
to a house. It remained gray, for no happy memory thrived there. The sight of
this house overwhelmed me with fear. I cried hysterically, screamed. I so
desperately wanted to be away from this house. I dropped to my knees and calmed
myself. I was still crying, but I stood up, with those last few sobs still
coming from me, and the last few drops running down my cheeks, falling onto the
pavement. The walkway
up to the house was overgrown with weeds. The yard was overgrown as well and
was going to seed. I went to the steps and stopped, looked at them, then
ascended. Slowly. One at a time. Still weary of where they were leading me.
None of them gained color as I stepped. They only remained gray, but it was not
cement gray. No. When I
stepped onto the porch, it remained gray as well. I looked to the left and saw
gray. When I looked to the right, I saw my porch swing. I remembered a happy
memory there. It was probably the only one for the entire house. My first kiss
was on that swing. I was 15. What a wonderful night…… I found
myself in the entryway of the house. I started to zoom through the house. I
thought I was walking, but I was moving as if on wheels. Through the kitchen,
the living room, the mud room, and the laundry room. Not a thing I touched
gained color. Then I found myself in front of the stairs. I moved up them the same
way, as if on wheels. But it was smooth, as if there where no steps. Everything
I had touched so far in the house had only turned a darker shade of gray,
almost black. Then I came
to my room. On my bed there sat a safety item from my childhood. It was in
color. I went and laid on my bed. I took the picture and pulled it to my chest
and held fast to it, as if I were cuddling it. I then rolled over on my side
and closed my eyes and pulled my knees into my chest. I wished he was here to
hold me like he did when he was alive. Comfort me from the bad. To shield me
from evil. © 2012 Walker AndreasenFeatured Review
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3 Reviews Added on July 12, 2012 Last Updated on July 12, 2012 AuthorWalker AndreasenGrafenwoehr, Bayern, GermanyAboutIf you're going to stop by, please at least leave a review before you go! My name is Walker Andreasen and writing is my passion. I write everything from stories to songs. The only thing I haven't wri.. more..Writing
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