literature

Space (Part 1)

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“I’m finally here,”Herman mumbled as he placed his luggage next to the door.

He cleared his throat several times before knocking on the door three times politely. There was no response, as expected. Before he could fumble for the keys in one of his pockets, the door opened slowly, revealing a neat, basic room.

“Thanks,” he said, glancing briefly around the room. There was a single bed in front, below large windows, as well as a small table and chair adjacent to it. The room looked nicer compared to online advertisement with an underexposed photo.

Herman dragged his luggage inside, before lying on the bed. It was a relief to rest properly after several hours of sitting stiffly in the train carriage filled with snoring passengers. He buried his face into the lavender scented pillow and relaxed in his peaceful space.

In his dream, a lady with long hair sat on the window frame, her legs dangling freely in the air. She looked weightless, like a bird perching on a branch.

“How did you die?” Herman asked softly.

“How do you live?” She replied in a similar tone.

They laughed at each other’s question and remained silent for a while.

“This place is really well-maintained, “he remarked.

“Well, time stopped here,” she murmured, pointing at the paper calendar on the wall with a sunflower background and a cross marked on the third of June, 1990.

“What happened in this room since that date?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing much, but you are the first person to want to linger here.”

“I just wished for time to stop and my previous landlord suggested this place.”

“Don’t you know the story of this place?”

“You can tell me about it, “Herman said casually, rolling to his right side to face the window.

------------------
It was 2am when he woke up. He could vaguely see a few stars outside, shining faintly without any competition from harsh, large city lights. Perhaps he could stay here forever, he thought to himself.

“Why stay here?”

“Can I have some privacy with my thoughts please, Miss Curious?”

“You are strange ,”she continued, “many people would be afraid.”

“You are extremely noisy for a ghost,”he grumbled,”most of them mind their own business.”

The glass window felt cold in a comforting way, as Herman leaned his head against it and closed his eyes. He enjoyed the tranquility of the night, where noise and urges to rush to somewhere ceased. Herman started humming some random notes softly, for as long as he could, while this feeling lasted.

She had many questions to ask while watching this human, but something about him made her questions take a step back in her mind.

Perhaps tomorrow, she decided.

---------------------

Sunlight painted light yellow patterns on his pale skin, while his soft brown hair was tinted with golden highlights. In contrast, she felt like a jellyfish as sunlight poured through her, making her skin appear semi-transparent.

She placed her hand curiously next to his, noting how his looked stronger and bigger than hers. Her hand seemed to be fading away any time, like her memories. Her emotions were slipping away too, eroded by a growing sense of emptiness.

Fear was the main residue of whatever she could feel, although she was unsure what it was about. Being a ghost should be simpler, she thought. Ghosts are supposed to just float around and be ghosts.

Herman finally stirred after a while. Feeling refreshed after resting on a real bed, he stretched lazily and gazed at the view from his room.

A small tree looked back at him, its leaves rustling as the morning breeze drifted about. Small birds chirped little good mornings as they went about their daily business. Herman squinted a little to determine whether the tree really moved, while the birds laughed at his reaction.

“What was that?” he couldn’t help asking.

“A tree?” she replied.

“I think the tree moved, “he whispered hesitantly.

“It’s alive,”she replied and shrugged.

Herman frowned at her answer, wondering whether he was hallucinating due to fatigue. His ex-landlord did mention something about his place. He thought about it while walking to the bathroom at the other end.

After fiddling with the tap for some time, he realized that nothing was coming out. Perhaps this building is really old, he thought.

“Where’s the water?”

“What water?”

“Didn’t you use water when you were still alive?”

He turned and tried to find her.

What he did find, was silence.
------------------------------------

Herman sighed. Fortunately, he had a few bottles of water left in his luggage. He was not sure how long they could last, but his logical mind told him that a ‘nature place’ like this would have a water source to support the local ecosystem.

After sipping some water sparingly, he shoved an empty bottle of water and some crackers into his backpack to prepare for a short trip to find water nearby.

The world beyond his little brick building looked brighter and more colourful, compared to his arrival on the foggy evening. Large stone steps led to a grassy slope, where little wild flowers peeked from the knee-high grass. He made his way down carefully, trying his best not to step on the fragile-looking flowers.

Half an hour later, he discovered a small stream hidden by tall grass. Herman lowered his hands into the water, feeling as though he was touching a piece of the sky, as the clear blue water flowed gently over his skin. Small fish wandered near his hands curiously, their brightly-colored scales shining against the smooth, grey pebbles below.

“Is this heaven?” he wondered.

He placed his backpack gently behind him and lied down on his back. All he could see was an endless blue sky, where large white clouds floated idly, changing shapes every now and then. He thought about his last conversation with his ex-landlord, Fred.

“Where would you go next?” Fred asked.

“Where the wind takes me,”Herman laughed,”I don’t belong anywhere.”

“I think I know a place you may like,”Fred replied, slinging his thin arm around Herman’s shoulder.

Herman studied Fred’s thoughtful expression for a while. Fred’s eyes were sunken with age, but they had a gentle sparkle that brightened his weathered face. He felt like a fatherly figure, someone who protected the people around him with his quiet presence despite his small frame.

“Maybe it won’t show up in the youngster Googie map,”Fred continued,”but it exists.”

“Where is that?”

“It doesn’t have a name,”Fred replied,”but it is a place many remember. You can go there by train.”

“How can a train go to somewhere without a name and where could I alight?”

“It does,”Fred replied,”you’ll know it when you see it.”

Herman pulled a postcard-sized photo carefully from his backpack, squinting a little as he compared it with his surroundings. At the bottom right corner, he could see ‘1990’ written in Fred’s typewriter-like handwriting. He wondered why it looked so familiar, as well as how someone who was in a coma could visit this place that took two days to travel from Fred’s home. Perhaps Fred wrote the year he received this get-well gift from a friend.

After a while, Herman finally glanced at his watch. It was frozen at 6.30am, the time he left Fred’s home. Maybe time is not that important now, he decided. He would just look out for the sunrise and sunset to keep track of each day.

He held his bottle of water against the sunlight, noting that there were no signs of strange residue in the water from the stream. Also, it seemed unlikely to be poisonous, as the grass around it was a healthy bright green. There is nothing to worry about this place, Fred mentioned before he left.

Satisfied with his ‘water test’ conclusion, Herman took a sip from his bottle. The water tasted sweet. He refilled his bottle afterwards, thinking briefly about how often he would need to refill his bottles. Every other day, perhaps.

“Where should I go from here,”he asked aloud.

For the first time, he felt uncertain. He would usually wander around any place without a map, but there was something different about this place. It was like dessert, where he would like to savor each inch of undiscovered space.

I’ll go a little further tomorrow, he thought.
----------------------------

It was probably late afternoon when Herman returned to his room. He dragged his worn luggage carefully from the space below his bed, to prevent scratching the old timber flooring. Next, he unzipped the main compartment and took an energy bar from a corner.

“Hmm,”he paused in between chewing his food,”it seems like there were no edible plants nearby.”

At the same time, he wondered briefly whether his body slowed down with time since he arrived in this place. It seemed as if he did not need anything much here, besides water. He imagined himself as a character in a novel he read, who wasted away and eventually died on his bed. Nobody found out, or bothered filing a police report.

“Nobody dies here,”a soft voice reassured him in his mind.

“That’s nice to know,”Herman replied.

“By the way, do you know Fred?”He asked, pointing to a recent photograph of Fred and himself.

Herman turned to look at the window, hoping to find his roommate. The cool presence in the room faded gradually, making the air feel heavier. Perhaps it was a sign that he was talking to himself again, he concluded.

He continued looking at some of the photos he had. There was one with a smiling, chubby old lady in a floral print apron, standing next to a table with a small group of children and several plates of scrambled eggs and ham. Danny, Mario, Cheryl, Shirley. He wondered what they looked like now and where they are. Somehow, he wished that time could freeze then. Every morning was beautiful.

Yet, everyone felt like they lived two separate lives each. Nights were always filled with screams, sounds of breaking glass and everyone switched off the lights so that they can never be found wherever they hid. It would disappear with the arrival of dawn and breakfast.

He shuddered as these memories returned. Herman could remember vividly that his last thoughts there was to run away to the other end of the world where nobody knew him. It was always easier to start anew.

“Am I doing that again?” he wondered.

Strange waves of emotions churned in his mind. He closed his eyes and leaned against the bed, covering his face with his hands but he could not hide from his feelings. He was too tired to run away again. Not even the lavender scented sheets could soothe his uneasiness.

After struggling for a while, he finally took a few deep breaths and willed himself to fall asleep.

------------------------

He found himself in a room with transparent walls.

Some people looked inside curiously, while others walked past without noticing him. Everything looked normal, from the small street to the people. It was probably morning time, as some people were walking with a cup of coffee or sandwich.

Yet, he felt extremely vulnerable, although he was still in his normal clothes.  

“Let me out, please,” he begged, banging a wall furiously, “Help me! Don’t leave me alone here!”

He continued yelling until he realized nobody would stop. The glass wall would not budge either, when he tried crashing into it with his six-foot-tall body. There was nothing else in the room, besides him.

Herman blinked furiously as he tried to think of alternative ways to escape from here.

Suddenly, he felt something pulling him from behind and fell backwards into a dark space rapidly.

He flailed his arms about, trying to find something to hold on to…

------------------------------

Gasping, Herman opened his eyes and felt his heart pounding rapidly. He climbed onto the bed with his shoes on, wrapping himself with the blanket.

“That crazy dream,”he muttered, trying to reassure himself that it was not real. It was impossible to have disturbing dreams in such a peaceful place. He buried his head below the pillow to ease his lingering headache.

She watched him quietly from her usual spot by the window, wondering how long he can last here.

Cloudy skies greeted him on the following morning. Blinking wearily, Herman stretched his legs, feeling the soft sheets under his cold feet.

“Where are my shoes?” he muttered, looking around the room.

“On the floor,”she replied,”don’t dirty my bed.”

“Ah, ok.” He curled up and drifted back to sleep.

“Wait,”she said hesitantly.

“I think,”she continued,”you should leave. It is not safe here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this place,”Herman shrugged his shoulders,”it is better than all the places I’ve been to.”

She pouted at his stubborn reply and sighed. It was increasingly draining to keep this creature alive and away from what waited for him beyond the room.

It was hard to imagine how living creatures choose to see what they want to see, based on their will power. Every day, she could only see dry, barren land that flourish on people’s dreams like flowers blooming under the sun, which eventually wither away to its original grey state at night.

There would always be someone wandering out there, filled with hope to taste something they can escape from. There was one that she would remember, who always wanted to swim in the sea every day. He would run outside in his swimming trunks despite the cold weather and make swimming movements on the ground. Perhaps her voice was too soft, because he could never hear her when she told him to stop after a few days, when his skin was filled with rashes from trying to ‘swim’ on the rough, sandy soil. He would smile brightly and repeat the same routine every day.

It made her sad to watch this every day, knowing that no matter how she healed his wounds while he was asleep, there was something deeper that will remain unhealed. She could not remember his name, there were too many that disappeared eventually into their dreams.
She glanced at Herman. He was probably the youngest visitor here, sent by Fred. Fred’s intentions were hard to understand, every time he sent someone here. He seemed like a shepherd, guiding lost sheep to a better place, but they would be left on their own.
“What’s the difference between letting them remain where they are and sending them here?”she tried asking Fred some time ago.

“Maybe they will find what they were looking for,”Fred replied and smiled.

“Will they?”

“Well,” Fred looked out of the window, sipping his tea patiently, “I’m only a landlord who rent space to those who want it.”

Somehow, she found herself with more questions than answers.

“It’ll be fine,”Fred reassured her.
-----------------

After several nights, she glanced at Herman. Although he did not have a daily routine, he passed his time calmly. He did not seem to have many expectations, besides fresh air, water and space. Daily nightmares did not trouble him much after a while, as he occupied himself with cloud watching and wandering around during the day.

“Have you found what you are looking for?”she finally asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,”he answered frankly,”what about you?”

She blinked.

“You see, sometimes it’s not about finding an answer to everything.”

“Why are you here, if you are not searching for something?”she blurted, staring intensely into his dark brown eyes.

His eyes reflected indifference as he replied,”I’m here to let go.”

Surprised by his answer, she followed the direction of his gaze and found a row of half-buried skeletons in front of the apartment building, covered by ash-grey sand. They were neatly arranged. It was as if Herman had planned to bury one on each day he wandered outside. Flowers rested around each skeleton’s mound.

“There’s a ghost in our hearts tonight, “ Herman sang softly, laying his photo collection on the bed, one photo for each mound.

From the left was a photo of a burly man in a checkered shirt and overalls; followed by a young boy running with a small dog; a lady in a suit; an elderly man with a round face smiling faintly.

She studied each face carefully, touching each photo gently with a finger, trying to remember the names of these familiar faces. Herman was amused by her serious expression, as he reached for a photo in his pocket.

“Cherie, it’ll be fine,” Herman said gently, leaning back casually.

Startled, she looked up and saw a photo of a long-haired lady instead. The lady in the photo smiled shyly, her eyes twinkling with joy at someone in front.

“How did you get this?” she asked in a trembling voice, averting her eyes from the photo.
Herman smiled again and replied,”I’m a photographer.”

Cherie paused, trying to remember when the photo was taken. Her mind remained blank for a long time, while Herman resumed looking outside the window. After a while, he slipped the photos back into a brown leather pouch and lied on his back. Herman closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

She was confused by his reactions. Was that really the same person who came here a few days ago?
When you have nowhere to go, where will you escape to?

Will it make you feel safe, or lost?

What will make you stay?

---------------

In a way, this is an introspective journey with a bit of humour and questions as the characters try to deal with unresolved issues within.
© 2014 - 2024 arlejerlutos
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