The White Room

"There's something about us."

That night was a myriad echo of shouts, alternative music and wasted brandy among shards of glass. As in a daze he found himself in a black room lain atop an evil bed; a dwelling of a most promiscuous being. The events of the nights that went before had done the worst of the damage, this night would claim him. Succumbing to his wounds the entanglement of their fates commence with great vitriol and instinctive self-destruction. The night weighs a heavy toll, soiling the very core and nature of our man. He knows what he does is wrong, but what has been wrought upon him justifies it this one night, surely.

Somewhere in the darkest corner of earth he lies, silent now. His suspicions confirmed, nothing could be worth giving away yet another scarce slice of himself and certainly not for what he has just experienced. His eyelids weigh heavy or at least they feel that way. For open or closed, his eyes only see the pitched black. Now finally sobered the night crushes him as he falls deeper into the pit of absent luminescence.

Suddenly light, birds, the sound of a lazy car driving by; the buzz of suburbia. He is now in a room so bright his eyes take time to adjust. It's as if to invade his black soul and rejuvenate it as a light would fill a dark corner. The curtains not unlike feathers blow peacefully in mezmerizing waves; the window open. There beside him she lies. Not the being he encountered in the dark before, but an angel he so longs to discover. She sleeps as peacefully as he feels now. Her eyes open slowly revealing inexplicibly soft obsidian eyes; knowing her he hasn't really looked this deeply into them although he wished he always could. Her welcoming smile embraces his own, but he knows this angel has another charge. There is another that she is meant for, not this unworthy being of darkness.

More inexplicable than her nature she gracefully wiggles into the nest of his chest, looking up at him closer now. He briefly thinks that at this distance she will see his messy innards, but if she did it doesn't chase her away. There again, those eyes; he knows what's next and tries to save her from himself...she defies him. Her lips are soft and warm; the kiss as white as the room he is in. And then it is over, but he is reborn. They stare at each other now, longing. His mouth moves despite his heart, "But what about..." She flicks him a look that shuts his mouth and his mind. "There is something about us." He takes it all in, her smile, her eyes, this room, this feeling, this bliss. And then; it is gone.

His eyes shoot open, or at least he thinks they do. He is back in darkness. The snoring of the creature beside him brings him back to reality. He is lost again, wandering. The room is a box, there are no windows, there are no curtains, only regret drapes over him like a burial wrap. He lies down again, without urgency in this despairable hole. There will be more dreams.

Before he falls into the abyss again, a flash of a thought crosses his mind; perhaps she'll visit again. Perhaps.