The Bedroom
THE BEDROOM
It was a lovely sunny day. Everyone settled, all occupied, time to prepare the meal. Job done and then she suddenly realised how quiet it was – perhaps a little too quiet. A look around to see what was going on was called for.
As she opened the door quietly and slowly, she looked cautiously inside, ah she thought, won’t disturb - on the Kindle, and quietly closed the door again.
Now for the other one. As she opened the door slowly, the sunlight opposite the door hit her suddenly from the bedroom window. Her eyes drifted to the floor as she drew her head away from that bright sunshine only to be puzzled by what she saw. On the beautiful cream carpet were smears of pink and black, what was it, it looked splayed out in wiggly lines and smudges – why would that be. Her eyes followed the once new cream carpet further into the room; it was sporadic, these swirly lines of pink and black with an input of blue. As she was trying to unravel what this was in her pristine guest bedroom, the sun shone again in her eyes and she had to blink in order to focus. What was that to the left – a shadow from the sunlight on the wall to the left of the door, her newly decorated wall. There were obscure patterns, again in pink, blue, black and orange colour. It crossed her mind that with the cotton paint colour on the wall and the sun shining into the room, it was quite expressive in an arty sort of way – like a personal statement on the wall, the colours gleaming in the bright sunlight.
Her mind returned to the horror she was looking at, her newly decorated guest bedroom, with new blue curtains, bedding and painted walls in Cotton Breeze, giving a pale ink blue on the walls, with white ceiling and high white gloss woodwork. To compound what she was looking at, there seemed to be speckled colouring of that orange colour and beige on the white skirting board and smudged into the new cream carpet.
A trail of smudge marks in orange and beige led to the bed. On the window side of the bed was a chair and, on the other a small chest of drawers. She stared first at the chair left, then the chest of drawers right, then left again and right again. What was going on?
On the chair used to be a pale blue cushion – looking at it now, it was grubby looking as if tea or coffee had been splashed on it. As the sun shone through the window, little specs of pink, black and blue sparkled back. She looked right at the white chest of drawers, smudge marks on the handles of the drawers, and the top smeared again with a mixture of colour. The lamp shade, cream in colour, or was cream in colour now with blotches and shady patches all over it.
If that wasn’t bad enough, she suddenly stared at the bed. Her brain was trying to take in what she was seeing – the chair, chest of drawers, the carpet, the wall, the bed. In disbelief standing still at the foot of the bed, the window gleaming in sunshine, dancing on the walls, creating shadows on the mattress, with waves of light across the door, she turned round to look at the wall with that expressive artwork. No, this wasn’t there before, she turned back to look at the mattress. Mattress - where were the pillows, sheets and cover.
She suddenly heard a noise, very faint, like a rustling. She turned round to look at the corner to the left of the window. There was the bedding, muddled into a pile, no a tepee shape and, again, smudges of colour, dark and light, blending quite well into the colours of the quilt cover. New furniture and bed with glossy paint work looked like a disaster area of an old well-worn bedroom, messy, dirty and grubby.
Wait a moment, there is movement from the bedding in the corner of the bedroom. The tepee shape is disappearing and she can see two tiny grubby hands emerge. As she stares and the bedding hits the floor, a face appears that grins in a way that can only be described as Dracula’s daughter. The look starkly resembles the colours on the walls, chest of drawers, chair cushion and carpet. She suddenly realised that, in future, she must hide her makeup bag and cosmetics from her granddaughter when she visits.
© Hazel Hall