Rooms

Just me exploring my imagination.

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1. Unworldly vibrant

 

The room is filled with pink smoke; lights are shining down from the ceiling somewhere in all the colors of the rainbow. In the middle of the room there is a single figure. A woman. She is dressed from head to toe in different shades of red velvet and lace, wearing a dress larger than life. It is draped down the entire length of her body, and tears up dust every time she moves. And while the dress it self is a dark, almost Victorian style shade of red, the corset binding the whole thing together is made out of bright, bright red lace, which seems almost fluorescent in comparison to everything else. As my eyes trace over the room I can see her stepping towards me, her eyes fixated on me. Her makeup is dark, and her lips are black as the night; Her hair is decorated with all sorts of black and red roses and bows, and her are black and high heeled with blood red spikes. But the thing that still captivates me the most are her eyes. Unlike the rest of her, her eyes are neither red nor black, but rather a shade of green that can only be described as unworldly vibrant. She seems to move almost as if floating on the fog, never seeming to take a single step but at the same time coming closer and closer every time I blink or move my eyes off her for only a moment. Before I know it, she is so close to me that I can smell the scent of her shampoo, and all though she at first seemed average in height, she is now towering over me, being almost double my height. Her mouth opens, but instead of the voice of a powerful, feminine woman, she simply whispers gently.

 

“Follow me.”

 

And with that she turns as if on an axle and glides back the way she came from. She moves quickly and I have to crank it up to a gentle jog in order to keep up. She leads me into the neighboring room where I can see rolls upon rolls of fabric, anything from the roughest of wool to the gentlest of silk, in all the colors I can imagine. I can see machines working; Wowing and sowing, even printing and gluing, all pumping of garments upon garments of clothes, of all eras, styles and sizes. I turn to her and try to ask what this place is, but neither her glace nor her pace wavers as she moves towards the next door. As I try to get a second glance of the room, she starts to pull away from me, and I am forced to pick it up to a light sprint in order to catch up with her again. I hear a manic laugh on one of the sides of the room, but it is too dimly lit to see where it came from.

 

“Close your eyes.”

 

I catch the phrase half a second too late, and as she opens the door we have now reached, I am flooded by light and subsequently blinded by it. I stumble and reach my hands before me as I try to regain control of myself and a recollection of my surroundings. I then feel two warm, thin and gentle hands wrap them selves around mine, and helping me stand straight as I get my act together.

 

“I told you to close your eyes.”

 

I look up at the woman, I swear I can see her smile ever so slightly, but her mystical statue and her bright, almost alluring eyes makes it hard to read any facial expression that she might or might not have. 

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