All Dolled Up!

Charlotte

It felt like I had slept for a thousand years.

It couldn't have been that long, of course. Still, I couldn't remember exactly how long it was. I was struck with a strange sense of depersonalization, as if it wasn't really me who was watching the room around me. Almost as if I was still asleep and all of this was merely a very vivid dream.

Was I still dreaming though? I strained my mind- yesterday, ten days ago, ten years ago- all of those times seemed to meld into one and were indistinguishable from each other. Memories... yes, they were there, but the more that I tried to reach for them, the more they seemed to slip out of my grasp.

Instead of pondering all of what had come before me, perhaps what was in front of me in the now would make more sense?

The sunlight streaming through the window was an unwelcome intruder. This meant that it was daytime, and it meant that my arms and legs were as mobile as the trees they had originated from. No matter how much I would will it, they would not move. I was a prisoner, trapped inside this new body of mine, which, though I had gotten used to, I was constantly reminded was different from the original. I had had this new body of mine for far longer than my original had lasted, but its limitations still continued to vex me.

The sunlight also cast the dust in the room which coated every single corner into sharp definition. Were it nighttime, the cover of darkness would've hidden the room's imperfections and lack of cleanliness. Now, It was obvious that it was extraordinarily dirty; my mother, had she still been alive would've had a heart attack at the very sight and berated me for it. No, not just my mother- any other member of my family would've considered the state of the room to be unacceptable.

Mother... that word brought flashes back of a woman who had done her best to comfort me as I lay in bed suffering from fever. She had never tried to let me see her tears, but even in my sickened state, I could still hear her sobs through the door. She was strong- no doubt, a much stronger woman than I was.

If I could have repaid her in someway- it would have been by keeping this house she was so proud of in a hospitable state instead of the mountain of rubble it was slowly becoming.

But it was an inevitability I had long since come to terms with- that there was nothing that I could do to try to even maintain the current state of the house- let alone try to fix it. There was only so much that I could do on my own, and doubly so with this body's limitations. I could not climb up to the rooftop and repair it. I could not lift many of the things that needed to be lifted. I could not reach places that needed to be dusted.

And when I had come to terms with the fact that I couldn't, I had also lost the will to do what little I could, for what little I could hardly mattered.

This depressing thought remained when it hit me- the sensation that had caused me to wake from my deep slumber in the first place.

It was unfortunate that I did not have the foresight to keep myself turned to the windowsill when it had still been nighttime, when I still could move. I suppose I might've thought I would've slept better with my eyes averted away from daybreak, but I should've known better than that. In the end, truth be told, I had decided to rest myself within this great glass coffin and in this exact pose out of sheer habit.

This was not the time for regrets, however.

As it was, it was sound, not light, which had roused me from my sleep. The sound of an automobile. It must've been very close by for me to have heard it. That could mean only one thing.

Someone had come to visit the house. My house. Our house- our family's house. And what had remained of my family was long gone. So this was definitely an outsider.

SOMEONE WHO WOULD DREDGE THEIR MUDDY FEET ACROSS MY FLOORS!

I forced myself to take a deep breath- metaphorically, as I no longer had to breathe. I had to calm down and think of a plan, not rage into the void.

Granted, I suppose it could be said that the house was dirty and unkempt enough that some mud would go unnoticed- but even if the house was in a state of disrepair, it was still my kingdom. My home. My castle. All that remained of my family.

I merely wished for nightfall to come as soon as possible. For the annoying sun, which taunted me through the windows, to finally hide as it certainly would.

When night came, these fingers would find their strength. These legs would begin to ambulate. And this throat- though devoid of vocal cords, would begin to speak. And I would have a few choice words for this intruder.

As they say, a man's home is his own fortress.

I may not have been a man- not in either sense the word may be used, but this was still my castle.

And woe to anyone who dared besiege it!