Margaret takes a few steps in until she is completely immersed in darkness. It's dark but her eyes are calm, adjusting, peaceful now that they have less of a glare to deal with. The darkness seems to put her at ease. Her breath settles, and she starts seeing her surrounding:
A single bed.
A desk and on it some papers.
A chess board.
An oven mitten.
A tennis racket.
Everything is meticulously placed: the chess board is neatly ready for a game. The quilt is folded and smells fresh. The sink has running water in it. Margaret splashes water on her eyes, hoping she would awake from whatever dream this is. She eyes the desk and papers on it. They don't reveal much - the ink on them is fainted so much that she cannot read a thing, other than the bold letters 'sign here:___________' Margaret smirks. She may not know why she's there, but in another life - Margaret would know better than to sign anything she can't see. Then, the carrot catches her eye. Something odd about it. She approaches. Touches... Oh! Huh, it is not a real carrot at all. It is a gadget of some sort, dressed as a carrot. A remote? A camera? A phone? She doesn't know. But suddenly is filled with an eery sense of DREAD. And just then - a blue light appears on the gadget, and a sound begins: it starts like a faint whisper, but quickly echos into a high pitch buzzing sound. Make it stop! Margaret covers her ears instantly. The sound escalates, she shrieks with it... M a k e i t s t o p ! ! ! She rushes to the door... as she approaches... it SHUTS. The sound continues, nearly rattling the chess pieces on the board. She clocks in everything in the room... the bed... the oven mitten... the pen... the... Oh. THE WHISTLE.
She grabs on to it, and does what a person oughta do with a whistle: whistles. And then... as if hearing its match calms it - the sound STOPS.
To be continued...
In April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling.
Header Art: Daniel Landerman