One Morning
by Anthony J. Rapino

The room’s dimensions are all wrong. Does the wall really begin where my shins are, and end…where does it end? It must be the triangular pattern of the tile, but that does not explain the room’s blue tint. Having just woke up, I rub my eyes vigorously, but nothing changes. The walls of a building, a structure, are not supposed to be curved. There are no corners in this place.

Where am I?

By all gravitational laws there is no reason this furniture should be standing upright. I notice the bed I just crawled out of moments ago rests atop a miniature circular maze of bluish tint. The maze is slightly larger than the bed. There is a small bedside table; on it rests a knife. It is not a kitchen knife.

Is that my knife?

Dizzy and disoriented I try to grab hold of reality, but there is none to grab hold of. This place confuses me, the knife confuses me, and that nude woman standing outside definitely confuses me.

Do I know her? And where the hell am I?

This does not seem like one of my dreams. In my dreams, I am not so dazed. I wander barefoot and nude to the doorway. The oval doorway leads to a patio filled in with small tile of the same triangular pattern as inside. Noticing the off-center look of the world outside I fall back, grabbing the molding to steady myself. My gaze finds the woman still facing the barren cornfield.

What is my name? I can’t remember my name.

Starting to panic, I realize this is not a dream. She stands, waiting-

For me?

To finish her job. Confused about where I am and who I am, I realize I must go to her. She calms my fluttering fear. She is blue like the rest of this place. She is part of it.

Am I blue too?

I start towards her familiar form, steadier now. I try not to notice how the trees reach for me as I walk, how the ground gives in to my weight, sinking like its made of rubber. For the first time since I left the building, I look at my hands, noticing I am holding the knife. It is my knife. My wander becomes an insecure march as I hike closer to the woman. She does not move, does not turn around. I have no knowledge of time, but time passes as it always does, and I now stand directly behind the woman. Her smell is familiar, like periwinkle. It meanders in the stagnant air.

"Who are you?" I ask, realizing I do not know who I am. "How did I get here, why am I here…to talk to you?"

The woman answers in a familiar voice. A voice that soothes my mind yet calls upon hidden fears. "You always asked too many questions." Why do I know that voice so well?

Shit.

Trembling with wonder I whisper, "Turn around."

"Are you sure you want to see me?" she answers curiously.

"Turn Around!" I yell gripping the knife with all my being.

She whispers, "You are not ready."

But I am ready. I am lost, and this blue world frightens me. I’m ready to find out why I am here. "Turn the fuck around you bitch!" The words scrape my throat as they escape. Without uttering a word, she turns, slowly.

Oh God.

She is blue. I suddenly know that I am too. It seems like I am seeing an old friend. Her skinny frame, tiny waist, hips that come out just slightly, delicately. Her black hair hangs to her shoulders. She turns around and a cold shiver passes through me. She has no face, just black endless depths-eternity in the faceless.

I could see eternity if only my own head would get out of the way.

These last thoughts slip away as the knife’s blade plunges into the woman. She falls, her face once again hidden.

She says, "You have finished what you came for. Go now to the house."

Without hesitation, although the hazy feeling has increased ten fold, I stumble back towards the house. The blue building grows larger in my view until I am inside. I limp past the maze. Beside the bed stands a mirror. I stare in the mirror, at my naked body, my slight hips. I look at the bloody knife in my hand. I look at the blood dripping from the gaping hole in my stomach. I brush the black hair off my shoulder as my skinny blue frame collapses to the floor.

I see eternity take flight.

©2002 Anthony J. Rapino