CP #12

May 17, 2010, update: We were assigned to write a portrait of a bedroom for English and this is what I came up with. It’s hard with this kind of thing to walk the line between painfully boring and Gossip Girl dramatic and I guess I decided to err on the side of the drama. Looking back I wish that I had taken the challenge of making a boring room interesting, but too late now.

The window bangs open against the wall behind it, letting in a gust of wind which swirls through the room, ripping a few old newspaper clippings from their places on the wall. The wind subsides and as it does the curtains fall back into place and the clippings come to rest under the bed, whose sheets and blankets are twisted and hanging off the side.The clock on the bedside table flashes 12:00, though the sky outside clearly indicates otherwise. One wall of the room is occupied by an enormous map of Canada with red, blue, and green pins peppering it. The lower left hand corner of the map curls up hiding Vancouver from view. The remaining space on that wall is taken up by a myriad of yellowing and torn newspaper clippings all seemingly completely random—sports scores from twenty years before, an earthquake in Chile, the New York City Ballet’s Nutcracker showtimes,  an interview with the author of a bestseller, stock market reports from every month since October of 2013, a story detailing the success of a movie released November 13th, 2009.

On the opposite wall above a cluttered desk, hangs a mirror whose face is turned to the wall. Flanking it, are two framed blueprints of what look like The Whitehouse and La Défense. Thrown carelessly across half the desk is a street map of London with a bold red line traced on it in Sharpie. A closer look shows that this line follows Downing Street. The rest of the desk is mess of old gum wrappers, broken pencils, crumpled bits of graph and lined paper, torn computer printouts, several calculators, and a toppled stack of newspapers in several languages. The topmost headline blares: Nuclear Bomb D—but the rest is covered by a long cold cup of coffee in a mug which reads World’s Best Dad on the side.

The desk chair is not in its place before the desk, but instead leans haphazardly against the opposite wall, a crumpled black rain jacket on its seat. Lying beneath one of the chair’s wheels is an eighteen month calendar open to April. Every day before Monday the 27th has a neat black X through it, while the 27th bears a hurried squiggle. A note sticks out from between the pages of a paperback novel which lies face down upon the first week of April.

It begins: Jean, I am taking—

The handle turns and the door opens.

1 comment
  1. rachelh2013 said:

    Upon reading this, my mind immediately thinks that the man this room belongs to is some sort of spy or covert operator. Although his location remains unclear, I am taking an educated guess and saying he lives somewhere in Canada or London, either of which could require a black rain jacket. However, the place of residence proves to be temporary with the Spartan-style furniture, broken down clock and faulty window. The exact date of this piece is never told, but evidence shows that April 27th of 2014 has passed. The map of Canada and London indicates he might be looking for something or even someone as his World’s Best Dad mug suggests. I remain doubtful as I proclaim this statement for his intentions are murky based upon the objects of his room. He seems to be on this mission for quite some time if he has sports scores saved from twenty years ago among his research. The mirror faced towards the wall remains a mystery. Perhaps he does not like seeing his face for some reason. This reason may be the springboard for his mission; perhaps one of revenge? On another perspective, perhaps this man is not the stereotypical James Bond-type spy. No guns or gadgets can be seen, only research materials. He may be something as simple as a scientist or an avid researcher. Only the author can tell us the truth.

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