The Room - Final Edit

Light spilled into the room, capturing and highlighting particles of dust as they slowly flitted through the air. The room had a timelessness to it, an age, and a strength held deep within the floor of sun-bursting oak, the mahogany desk, the anachronistic polished steel and plastic book case. The light, filtered through the thin dust, left a splash of striped shadows that slowly would walk through the room as the day progressed, and would soon meander across the unoccupied four-poster bed.

The bed itself was reminiscent of more recent designs, but had lain untouched since it had entered this room. The sheets were just as tightly pressed and perfectly made as they had been years ago when the door was closed and locked. The sheets were now sun-bleached from their original vibrant hues, but more than anything this effect just caused the bed to look homier, more comfortable.

Of course, it would if anyone was to enter the room and look upon it, not that anyone ever did. They had no use for this room. They had no use for the books on the shelves, for the fan on the ceiling, the comfortable, sun bleached bed, nor the rich, mahogany roll-top desk. No use for the closet full of clothes, for the outdated computer that sat on the desk, the dartboard on the door, no use and no interest for anything in this room.

It would come as no surprise, had the natural wildlife of an urban household taken refuge in this strangely quiet, sun-lit room, but there were none. No spider webs in the corners, no silverfish in the books, nor moths in the clothes. Rats were not nesting in the box springs, and roaches didn't live in the desk. In fact, during the time since the door had closed, only two things had moved. The light of the sun and moon as they danced their slow, cosmic ballet through the universe, and the air of the air conditioning system as it blew through vents that no one had bothered to close.

What was so special about this room?  Why has it been so forgotten, so ignored these past years?

Well, to be honest, I couldn't tell you, dear reader. Why don't you use this room? It's in the home that is your heart, your mind. It's a place you know quite well, though perhaps you see it through different eyes. Why don't you open that door? The one that you closed all those years ago?

You might find a book you loved once. A memento of an old flame, or even the reason that you have become what you are to this day, good or bad. This room is your room, whether you like it or not.

So open the door that you closed oh-so-long ago, and accept it. Without that room, you would never be the person you are today, and until you face that door, you'll never learn to grow.