Again, I wake up to the sound of silence, the glowing moonlight bursting through the window. Darkness surrounds me in a warm embrace, and I soak it in thankfully. All the world is alseep in the night, a brand new start waiting for them when they wake.
Tonight, balloons float in the corner of the room. They read things like, "Get well soon!" and "We miss you!" In the faded red chair just like every other one in every other room, a boy sleeps with his head sleepily drooped on his shoulder. I pull the sheets back and lightly and gingerly step out of the bed and skipped straight over to him. Leaning over him so I can examine him, my mixtured wavy hair falls out of my face and the ends lightly tickled his face. I push my extremely long thick hair back behind my ears with my fingers and take a closer look at the boy. Tousled messy brown hair the colour of the woods covers his tightly closed eyes. A pale creamy face and a prominent nose was all else I could see of him. Wore a faded plain blue t-shirt and a ripped pair of jeans.
"I wonder what colour his eyes are." I thought aloud, surprising myself by speaking. Ocean blue, maybe a forrest green? I gazed at the boy a while longer, wondering why he was here, what his life must be like. Do I know this boy? I didn't think I did, but he looked somehow familiar. Why is he asleep in the chair? Must not be very comfortable. What is this boy's name? was my biggest curiousity. After lingering, I finally gave up knowing I could stare at him for hours and never come up with a single idea of who he was. I left the room, tugging the metal staff along behind me. Turning around one last time to take a quick peek of him, I finally made my way down the hallway. The beech doors with their metal handles were all the way down the hallway, each with a number and some sort of file folder outside of each. The room I had just come from, number 1873, had a single file in it's container. I pricked it out and flipped it open. A name on the top read, "Dakota Anne Jennings". I continued to read on. "Born August 4, 1994; Highland Hospital; Brandon, Manitoba, Canada." I looked up from the file and looked around. Could this be me? I was in the room. Staring back down at the file, all the rest made no sense to me. A bunch of big words and something talking about the brain. No, this couldn't be me. I wondered. What is this anyway? I closed up the folder and dropped it back into the plastic container hanging on the wall and continued on. The hallway turned off to many others left and right of me, and I was eager to explore all of them, even though I knew I wouldn't find anything else than more file folders and a few vending machines at the end of a few of them. I decided to pick upon a random door and read the file. The last one with the name "Dakota Anne Jennings" seemed so intruiging to me, I wanted to see another. I saw one particular door that was open just the tiniest bit, and locked my eyes on it. All the way at the end of the hall, I decided to bolt to it with all my might. I could go running and racing down every single one of these halls but after feeling my hair behind me and hear the little wheels on the metal staff go spinning, I was contented with stopping at the door. My finger reached into the platic pocket on the wall and I pricked the file out. "Charlotte Maybelle Sharley; born December 31, 1932; St. John's Newfoundland, Canada. Hospitalized due to fall down stairs with fractured left hip as result" It said in a short little bow at the top of the paper.
"Charlotte Maybelle Sharley" I whispered into the night. Remembering that the door was open a crack, I pressed my face to the crack and blinked my eyes. An elderly woman lay on her back asleep in the deep of the black night. Snow white hair and ruby red lips were the first thing I saw. Her wrinkles on her face were biggest around her eyes which again, I wondered what colour they were. Hands wrinkled and boney, especially around the knuckles lay by her side, a wedding band on one of her fingers. I smiled at the thought that she would wake up in the morning, her grandkids there to see her maybe, or her elderly husband coming to check on her with another bouqet of white daisies. She would go back to making cookies and watching Wheel of Fourtune when she got out of here. I read her name and sentence again. Wait a second, "hospitalized"? "Hospitalized due to fall down stairs with fractured hip as a result." This was a hospital? This just furthered my questions even more. I still didn't know my own name, and I was in a hospital.
All of a sudden, the woman sat straight up in her sleep. I peered back into the room, and Charlotte looked straight at me with her eyes the colour of the bright blue sky. She looked not frightened or curious as to who I was or why I was peering into her room, but as if I were just another part of her strange dream she knew she would forget in the morning. So with that, I left the door and walked around the hospital hallways a little bit more, wondering the big life question as to who I was.
YOU ARE READING
The Corridor Walker
Teen FictionDakota Jennings has no clue where she is, or even who she is. The truth is that Dakota lives in a hospital and was nearly killed when a drunk driver crashed into her car. But Dakota finds happiness when she goes running through the halls at night, e...
