If I had to describe myself, it would be in a word that has many meanings with a complexity which falls off the tongue.
A word made up of many elements, is deceptive in appearance, and creates an illusion from the imagination.
My word would be Phantasmagoric. ~Summer Ross

Thursday, March 3, 2011

The room

In my Creative nonfiction class the professor asked us to describe a room in detail using sensory, metaphors, similes, anything that helps describe it...this is what I wrote.


The walls in the room held two pictures of angels with roses each pointing their soft curls towards each other as if the place wanted me to feel safe even though I was only dressed in paper. The metal sink’s open mouth seemed to laugh at my predicament, as if I should not have come in the first place. There was a simple black plastic chair beside the platform bed. That chair strangely comforted me, perhaps because I knew under normal conditions someone would be holding my hand sitting in that chair, maybe when the time comes for the hysterectomy Dr. Sheridan will allow my friend to come inside until I fall asleep.

The fear of not waking up from the medication enveloped my thoughts. All of a sudden, the walls look as if they are reaching out for me, to confine me in this empty shell. The paper sticks to my body and even the platform bed is opposed to the flesh on my back. The bed’s soft embrace is only temporary until my whole body lays flat waiting for the doctor, and then as if it knows I am alone in the room it contorts to a hard surface keeping me as uncomfortable as possible. The small pillow is rough, it growls in my ear as I move my head to look back at the angelic pictures on the wall.

The air coats my body in a cool wrapper. I place my hands under my back to keep them warm. The fan kicks on from the ceiling and a fresh breeze drifts between my legs. I shiver at the delicate touch of the airs fingertips. My toes are not frozen but they are ice cold when I sit up and place them Indian style under my legs. From the high point of the bed, I can see the white marble textured floor. It is glazed over letting my deformed reflection stare back at me asking how much longer I must wait. My heart pounds in my chest as I hear feet scuffle across the floor outside the room. The door is blocking everyone from view. Its small silver handle turns slowly as if it relishes in my anticipation. The light from the ceiling flickers a quick blink and Dr. Sheridan stands inside the room.

12 comments:

N. R. Williams said...

Well done, Summer. I hope you get an A.
Nancy
N. R. Williams, The Treasures of Carmelidrium

Jess said...

Wow, this is great! You really went above and beyond the assignment and did a wonderful job of character development too :)

Golden Eagle said...

That's a great piece of writing. I definitely got an impression of the room!

Susan Kane said...

My heart is still in my throat, for I was in the room watching all this happens (not really). But the writing took me there, and allowed me to leave. Good writing. Susan

Erin Kane Spock said...

That was really transportive imagery.
BTW, there is a web-TV show called "The Room." The only repeating character is the room itself. It's really interesting.

Old Kitty said...

Superb!! Absolutely lovely! I'm there with you - I love the little details, your fears, your trepidation!! Lovely!! Thank you, take care
x

Margo Kelly said...

Nicely done. :)

Jules said...

The room is real, the words make it so. If you don't get an "A" let me know I'll hunt that Prof. down. But this is just a story right? You know I worry about my blog buddies :)

Fairy Evening
Jules @ Trying To Get Over The Rainbow

Jemi Fraser said...

Nice! Great imagery :)

Anny Cook said...

Sigh. Excellent description for a doctor's office. Hysterectomy = major surgery in an OR. So maybe...pick another procedure?

J.L. Campbell said...

I think you did great with the sensory details, putting me right in the room with your character.

Carol Kilgore said...

I saw the room right away and got that creepy feeling about it, too.

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