Empty Window

Update version of my try at flash fiction. Constructive criticism welcomed. :)


I awaken from my dream and cross the floor of the dimly lit room. The woman is there, motionless before me. Her white gown is stark against the shadows. She is quiet, as always. Her stillness echoes off the walls. "What do you want?" I question, though I know she will not answer. Impatient, I press her. "Don't you have anything to say?"

It is raining again. No, pouring. I can hear the raindrops crashing chaotically against the glass. The window tells me nothing more. The only view it can offer is one of dense, black surfaces. It is a cold and unpleasant portal. I glare at it, resenting its inability.

I am whimpering now. "Please say something. I don't like the quiet." True, but today it is more quiet than usual. People often say that silence can be deafening. I understand them now. Still she stares, and I secretly despise that look in her blank eye. She opens her thin lips as though to speak, but no words come. She has thought better of it, and perhaps she is right. Still, I want so badly to know what she is thinking. Certainly her dark eyes hide a story.

Her expression shifts into a parody of a smile, white teeth glinting between her slightly parted, dry lips. The corners split from the effort.

I want to scream my frustration to her, but I know she won't listen. Still she stands motionless; still she hides her knowledge from me. That silent grin is her mask. Always quiet; always knowing.

The door swings gently open. Our conversation has ended without beginning.

"Are you awake, dear? Come down to breakfast."

I turn from the mirror and follow the sound of the voice. The room is empty now, and the rain continues.