by Moriah Canida
The window in my room is special. Not as in a stained glass or creative design kind of way, but a truly magical way. The things I see through it don’t always make sense, but the scenes are always vivid and clear, as if it’s really happening. I’m not sure if it’s a side effect of the medication they have me on, or a hallucination, but every day there is something different on the other side of that glass.
Yesterday, it was a field of vibrant flowers in colors I have never seen before. Colors I never knew flowers could be. Black, blue, magenta, and even brown. Not the dead kind of brown, these ones looked like they were made of chocolate.
The day before that, it was a dragon. Massive and covered in green scales, with wings that blocked out the sun stretching out behind it. I watched as it crawled up the side of the building from my chair by the window, where I often sit and watch the events of these new worlds unfold.
That is the only explanation I can rationalize in my mind for the things that happen out there. It must be a different world, one that only I can see. I have given up asking others what they see out that window. They always give the same answer.
“The driveway that comes up to the hospital and a row of trees, Raven. What else would we see?” They would say.
“You don’t see the elf? The flowers? The dragon?” I would always ask, only to be met with incredulous stares and looks of disbelief. They already think I’m crazy. Talking about the things I see out of the window only makes it worse. It incites anger in the people who care about me, and usually results in more medicine. So, I don’t. Not anymore. I keep what I see to myself. This way it is like I’m part of a little world that only I know about. A world where nothing hurts, where nobody calls me crazy, and things are simply better.
But today…what I see is different. For the first time since I moved into this room, I see the image that everyone else has always seen. A black asphalt drive lined by rows of bare trees, and a gray, bleak sky. Colorless and devoid of any sort of joy. It immediately fills me with a sense of unease. Dread pools in the void left behind by the colorful visions, and a tugging sensation in my gut pulls me out of my chair, drawing me closer to the window. Compels me to crank the window open as far as it would go.
The cold winter air blows in through it with a vengeance, as if something was chasing it. The wind bites at my cheeks, nipping with the ferocity of a five-pound Chihuahua. With it comes a bout of snowflakes, whipping into my room and swirling around the floor in a vortex that grows larger as I turn to face it. From the tunnel of whirling snow, steps a man. No. Not a man. A fairy?
He is beautiful, in an ethereal sort of way. With pointed features and a strong chin, he stands much taller than I. Wings made of frost and ice sprouting from his back. Something about him was familiar. It tickles at the back of my mind, like a forgotten memory trying to break free. A flash of ice-blue eyes, rough hands, and something so sickeningly sweet my teeth ache. My own thoughts derail me – I briefly wonder how his pure white hair does not move even with the wind whipping around the room like a miniature tornado, and the memory is gone once again.
“I finally found you, Raven.” The man says. His voice reverberates through the room as if he was connected to a surround sound. “It’s time to go.” He held out his hand. It was covered in callouses and scars, just as sharp as the rest of him. Despite that, that barely-there memory pulled at my senses, begging me to remember this mysterious man, to understand why he had come for me.
For reasons I may never understand, I took his hand.