The Room

Emma had nothing but her room for the entirety of her existence. She had no recollection of how she got there or how on earth to leave. It was as if she was just someone, for lack of better words, “poofed” into existence with only the memories of the room. There were many constants in the room, but the most consistent of all were the voices. It was the voices that woke Emma, just as they did every day for as long as she could remember. Sometimes there were many voices to be heard. For the majority of the time, though, it seemed to be the same two voices. One deep and rich, the other smooth and soft. Sometimes the more smooth and soft voice would even sing songs. The voice sang beautifully. That is all the voices did, though. They were the voices that spoke but never heard her replies. No matter how hard she banged on the walls of her room, they never engaged in any form of communication with her.

Now, please don’t get me wrong, the room provided all the comfort she needed. It was warm and spacious. However, there was one architectural flaw to Emma’s room. Well, three actually; the first being the paper-thin walls that we have already discussed. The walls could hear everything. From what was for dinner to wallpaper patterns, Emma knew everything about the tenants who resided next to her room. Now, speaking of dinner, the one upside to the room in which Emma resided was, in fact, the food. The food delivery service was absolutely marvelous. At first, Emma thought she might starve, seeing as though she had no way to obtain sustenance, but, as if by magic, food began to appear. It appeared via a funny little tube within the room. The truly marvelous feature of the service, however, was that the food seemed to always be what Emma wanted most. If she craved a deep-fried pickle, BAM! There it was. A juicy cheeseburger with extra ketchup? Not a problem! Delivery seemed almost instantaneous. It seemed that perhaps the room could read her mind. It was truly splendid. Now, don’t get me wrong, there were times when the food was not up to Emma’s standards. The popcorn might have been too salty, or the coffee gave off a terrible smell, in which case Emma would send it right back to where it came from. Wherever that was.

The last, and maybe most truly odd, feature of this room was the door. The room had no windows, but it did have a door. Indeed, there seemed to be a way to exit the room, but oddly enough, the door would never open. No matter how hard Emma pushed or shoved or even kicked it, it refused to budge. Occasionally a light would shine faintly under the door, but alas, it remained shut tight.

So her life went, day after day, week after week: just her, the room, the food, the locked door, and the voices. Nothing more, nothing less. Despite the loneliness, Emma seemed to have everything she needed in her room. Everything seemed to be as it should be. That was until the day something very strange began to happen.

The change didn’t occur instantaneously but rather over time. As Emma continued her life of eating, sleeping, listening to the voices, and watching for the light under the door to appear, the room seemed to be changing. It was as though the room began to get smaller. It wasn’t such a problem at first. Emma could still move about freely without any discomfort. However, as the weeks progressed, things began to become more and more compact. It seemed like the walls were closing in on her. It got to the point where Emma could barely move, her arms and legs squished tightly to her chest. Was she getting bigger, or was the room getting smaller?

She twisted and turned every which way, praying her beloved room might return to its appropriate size. The banging on the walls seemed to upset those on the other side. So much, in fact, that the female voice began to scream! The more Emma kicked, the more the soft voice screamed. Emma began to worry that this might be the end. Her room, the voices, the food—it was all coming to an end. The room was getting too small.

That’s when it happened: the shaking! The walls, which were once still, began to tremble as if contracting in and out. They began to squeeze on Emma. Emma continued to kick about and squirm to no avail. This was it. Just as she came into existence, so she would leave it. Emma stayed curled up, feeling terrified as the walls continued to shake for what seemed like hours. The soft voice only screamed now, and Emma wished she could cover her ears. The screams just got louder and louder.

That’s when everything changed. As the voice let out one final ear-piercing scream, the door flew open and a bright light shone in. What a wonderful way to go, thought Emma, a beautiful bright white light. All of Emma’s anxieties seemed to fade as she moved closer and closer to the light at the end of the tunnel. Her time was over; her room was gone.

Then she heard a voice she had heard from time to time while in the room as a wave of cold air hit her. She was so frightened by her new surroundings, she herself began to wail, screaming at the top of her lungs out of pure fear and desire to be back in her warm room.

“It’s a baby girl!” the voice said as a soft piece of cloth was wrapped around her. It provided some comfort, but it wasn’t nearly as nice as her room.

“Can I hold her?” said another voice.

This voice Emma knew all too well. It was the soft, beautiful voice that sang to her. The voice that made her feel safe and loved. The voice held her close and smiled.

“Hello, little one,” said the voice. “I’m your mom.”

“Hello, Emma,” said the other voice, the deep and rich voice. “I’m your dad. We have been waiting to meet you for so long. Welcome to the world, my beautiful baby girl.”

Emma, once again regaining a sense of security, slowly stopped crying and stared at her mom and dad in complete awe. Her room was gone, but now she could finally put faces to the voices. Finally, they talked back.