Little Girl of Room 19

“Do you want some tea, Poppy?” a little girl asks behind charcoal black hair, so long. She smiles from beautiful lips, a kind gesture for some. The little girl tenderly picks up the blue pot and hands her friend, a cup of tea. The plush creature stares at her with an eternal smile, never fading nor frowning.

“I love tea parties! Don’t you?” her hair shone so beautiful and her eyes ice-blue gleamed. The little friend of the girl is her best friend, no doubt. They play together day after day yet they drink some tea toady.

“Fancy a cupcake?” the girl of seven asks. No response in the relative world but her heart sings with fictional love. This poor little girl stays in an empty world of imagination of fear. Her little world is as big as she needs it to be.

Poppy, her friend, falls off his chair and the little girl starts to cry. “Don’t hurt yourself. You scared me.” She picks up the creature with so much care. The brown teddy bear stares at her blankly while she kisses his forehead and places it back on its chair.

The tea party continues and she enjoys every bit of it. To her, the teddy bear really exists. She has many other friends in her world; a cat, a dog and a dragon too. She spends so much time with her silly routine, she forgets about the real world in all. The little girl feels safe here. Her friends of ten had exiled the clown who had given her a fright at night.

She chants with her creatures and they dance with her, an everlasting friendship unlike any other. This little girl plays by day and grieves by night. She has only one best friend, the teddy bear. No one else feels for her, only her few friends of plush.

“I have a secret to share with you.” She whispers to Poppy.

The plush bear grins with a kind hearted smile. The little girl sighs, “There are many people who hate me, Poppy.”

“No, they don’t, my friend” Poppy speaks to her.

“They do, you saw how they left me here! They hurt me!” she is angry with the bear for not being honest. The room is silent and her bear feels sorry.

“No.” The bear cries, “I really mean it.” The bear looks away for he does not know what to say to the pretty girl.

“My mommy, will come and fetch me soon, I know it!” she is optimistic again and kisses her friend. The bear gives her a hug in return and they commence their play.

It is dark, even in her world. The night has fallen so she tucks her friends in bed and salutes them, ‘goodnight’. The evening is long, cold and unforgiving. No love, compassion or attention for her is given. Nightmares of snakes, bullies and fires frighten her; a vivid world at night, a plush wonderland by day. The moon stares into her window; it provides some sort of light. Her bed feels cold and stale, it makes her cringe.
When the everlasting sun arose from its slumber, the little girl climbs out of bed singing in hum. She goes to look for food but to no avail, ‘Maybe tomorrow.’ She smiles unsure to her friends. She arranges her friends in a circle and chats to them in childish gossip. This little girl is particularly interested in her teddy, the big brown bear with a red ribbon so red.

The little girl looks at her bear, “Am I dumb, Poppy?”

The brown bear cannot answer because, why is she here? She sighs and places her bear on the creaky wooden chair; she stares at her creation in pride.

Suddenly there echoed a thud. The perfect world of imagination and wonder rescinded. A call, a menacing call, asks for her to approach the door. She does not know what to do; obey or stay?

“Must I go? Poppy, help me, please!” she seeks her bear’s advice.

“Go, all will be fine.” The bear seems wise on its old wooden chair. The little girl approaches the door and turns around to see her friends. They sit in a circle gossiping about nothing. She waits for the wooden door to open, it slowly widens. Her worlds’ creation, deleted.
She comes back later that day, confused and dumb. No imagination remains, her friend, the bear, is gone. She does not care; after all he was not real, was he? She looks at the empty chair in a blank stare. Her black hair tangled and wildly spread. Her lips are cracked and cheeks are pale.

The window is leaking, streaks of murky water on the wall. A ceiling so high, it can never be reached. This little girl is not a person but a soul; a poor, lost, tortured soul. She will always stay in Room 19 with her friend, the bear on his chair. Her friend is gone and her mind is dumb. She’ll never have somewhere else to go. The pale woman with pretty black hair, huddles on the floor and picks up her arm and points to the place of imagination of past.