What do you see from your window? It’s a valid question, really; do you see blue skies? Grey clouds? Trees swaying in the breeze?
Alicia didn’t have the privilege of a window, so whenever she was visited she had to ask what people saw. Many couldn’t tell her. She was surprised at that: if she had a window she would memorize all the features of the world outside of it. Her own world was so limited. Her four drab walls, covered in drawings mangled from the descriptions of the world outside. Her drab desk. Her drab bed. The only places she ever was able to go to were inside the same windowless building as this windowless room was in.
“Alicia?” A faint call. Alicia didn’t answer. Once again: “Alicia?” The door opened and a starkly-blonde woman came in. Alicia finally looked up at her, the only motherly figure in her life. The woman smiled down at her. “You’re late for your lessons, Alicia,” she said.
Alicia, still mute, still thinking about windows, looked down at her drawing in her hands.
The woman took Alicia’s hand gently. “Time to go.” She took the drawing out of her hand and led her out of the room, locking it behind her. Gently still she led Alicia down to the classroom, where she plugged Alicia into the computer and ran the program called Lessons. While it started up she mused on the failure Alicia had become. Such an expressionless, nonreactive creature. They had had high hopes for Alicia, but with all their tests, all their lessons, all Alicia would do was sit in her room and draw abstract images in shades of grey, incomprehensible to any of them. It was such a shame.
Friday Fiction and the Idea Market: a weekly prompt as well as marketplace for creative types to share ideas. This week’s prompt.