Lavender Mist

The Red Hallway

As gentle light of the dawn slowly turned into hot, daytime rays of the summer Sun, Timothy lightly walked along the path, scrambled with shadows of trees, roofs in different, pale colours and street lights, that had shut off just a few minutes before. Some of them were, however, still weakly blinking, as if the early morning, which suddenly interrupted the night, confused them. The street was entirely silent, which was normal for every Saturday. Even birds and wandering animals were hidden and slumbering, so the only noise was made by Timothy's footsteps and the short grass, that was bending in the direction of the wind.

Every house, that he passed by, looked the same as the last one. Timothy wasn't used to that, given that he was familiar and could differ every corner of that street, but his sleepy mind probably ignored varying colours of the walls, doors and roofs. Yet, he didn't care. Only one house mattered to him in that moment and he could find it in any part of the day and any condition, since he felt like something was pulling him towards it that morning.

He knew that Maggie's family was already awake, but he didn't expect to find her sitting on the stairs of the porch, holding onto the wooden fence which still had pale traces of the once fresh paint, and staring at the lifeless street in front of her. Timothy stopped and made a couple of short steps backwards, bewaring for the girl not to notice him. First, he wanted to observe her briefly, compare her to Maggie from his dream and to pay attention to every smallest detail. She looked the same as she did next to the lake. But, why did he feel like she was another person, then? What was different? What was missing?

When he approached closer, he could see the expression in her eyes: it was a mysterious, strange emptiness, which he had never seen in any other person and which he wasn't able to read. Whatever was she thinking about? As he was walking closer, he wondered more and more how it was possible for her not to hear his steps and why she never turned her head towards him. He looked around in confusion, and then sat on the stairs beside her, as the wood creaked and slightly bent. Only then her eyes crossed his, though she still didn't shyly smile, like she usually did when she would see him, which Timothy loved quite much. Her face kept it's seriousness and her cheeks looked oddly pale, although the sunrays from the horizon threw their warm light over her. Timothy could almost see a foggy cloud in her eyeballs, which prevented him from seeing what she felt, grew bigger and bigger, and filled her up from the inside.

"I wanted to come," said the boy, although she didn't ask him anything. However, he thought that she deserved to know why he sat next to her. "It's so quiet this morning. I needed to talk to someone."

Maggie, however, didn't answer, but, instead, continued staring at the street. Still, Timothy felt like she was comfortable in his presence and like his voice was relaxing her.

"I dreamed about you again," he said, hoping that he would lure at least a tiny smirk onto her face. Her lips didn't budge, but he noticed that her eyes looked more alive, as if a part of the fog inside of them cleared up. "But, I don't know how much of it was actually created in my head."

Maggie looked at him once more, which represented a small achievement to him. "What was the dream about?" Her voice was quiet, but clear and discernable.

Timothy sighed and stopped. It was hard for him to respond to that question, since he wasn't sure, himself, what the answer was. "I saw you by the lake. It was weird. Like an art piece."

The girl didn't react, but he knew that she was profoundly listening to every word, that he said. Her eyes were blurry and unreachable again, but still present and aware. Timothy started speaking again, to get her attention, about which he was joyful every time.

"Would you help me? I want to look at the painting of the lake once again."

This time, Maggie sent him a stare, which was like a way of asking him what his suggestion meant. It looked like there was a small piece of dread inside of her.