The Room Without a View

The room without a view

I don't know how I ended up here. There was a bang and a flash. No! I think it was more like a gurgle and a splash. Most people would expect a bang and a flash before they end up where I am, but these things rarely ever happen the way they're told in stories. Most peculiar…

Forgive me. I don't know where I am either. i do know that I have just made a fatal error. I just let you know that I who am most undoubtedly myself don't know where the Charmander I am!!

It's a white rectangular room, without furniture or much of anything at all to be honest. the only thing remotely exceptional (please note that when remotely and exceptional are used together it can only mean that the thing that is being referred to as remotely exceptional is hardly exceptional at all.)

Where was I?

The only thing about the room that is worth mentioning is that is has si fluorescent lights suspended by chains.

When I arrived I was lying flat on the concrete floor which is just as white as the rest of the room. I was, I am, naked. I was wondering what to do when a cheap parker fountain pen and a note pad belonging to one Jack Wills appeared before me.


On Jack Wills

You're probably wondering how I, who don't know much of anything at all knows that the book belongs to one Jack wills who is also probably a girl. At girl I frown a little. My reaction is most involuntary.

Girls are fickle,
Made out of pickles.

Apologies. I don't know where that came from. Every time I try to think about the source of that thought, mu chest hurts. It's probably a bruised rib.

I know that the book belongs to Jack Wills because, on the cover of the book (a blue book with white feathers) are the letters J A C K  W I L L S in pink. I stared at it for a while. The way a man who does not know whether or not there is a suicide bomber in an abandoned suitcase in an airport would stare at it.

 I think this is the next terrorism craze.  We've had suicide bombers and we've had suicide bombs in suitcases but we've never ever seen suicide bombers in suitcases. This makes sense to me.

 I wasn't sure what would happen if I touched them. At the time I considered the following options.

1. I would be bound to the pen and notebook forever!! The book would never run out of paper and the pen would ne'er run out of ink. I would be writing forever!

2. Upon touching the pen it would morph into a viper and bite my head off. There's a thought I very nearly had right after this but it was so horrid that my brain killed it before it had time to develop fully.

3. Once I opened the book I would be sprayed with acid and blinded! My looks would be ruined forever.

Am I good looking? (This question seems familiar).

4. The pen would turn into a sword and then I would be forced to pretend I was St George and I would have to slay an imaginary dragon for eternity.

5. The book would reveal to me who I am, where I am and what I am doing here.

I thought I had it. I thought I had stumbled upon the reason for the abrupt and surprising materialization of the book by Jack Wills who is a girl. In that instant I performed an extraordinary flying leap towards it. I opened it with bated breath.

 On the front page was written two words, "for you." I flipped through the book feverishly and found that those were the only two words inside it. At that I screamed to the ceiling, "Who else could it be for? I AM THE ONLY ONE HERE!!!"

Here I am still, writing. I know that I wasn't much of a writer before I got here but how else will I pass the time?

Happy Days,
Afam