The Haunted and other short stories

White Walls

She sat alone in the corridor. No one said a word. Her heart was beating fast. The clock moved slower than ever. The dirt under her fingernails racked on her nerves. She heard a moaning down the hall. Tucking herself tighter, she tried to drown it out. The tile was cold beneath her. Tighter and tighter she squirmed. She prayed to be invisible. It was not a difficult order against endless white walls and the paleness of her skin. Another moaning began. The effect picked up pace with others joining in with screams, laughter, and cries. She wanted it to end. This all had to end. Quickened clacking came down the hall. A gust from the coat billowing with speed brushed her. The sound never slowed down. She relaxed. Perhaps she was invisible. The grip on herself loosened. Other coats joined the first in a similar fashion.

Looking around she remembered her hands were shaking. Her head was swimming. How ill opportune it all was. She pulled her dress down. She wished it were longer. The screaming continued. Her head itched. It seemed to do so at this time when her hair was starting to grow back in. She was unsteady moving onto her feet. Although the emptiness of the corridor gave the illusion of solidarity she understood it would not last for long. Her feet shuffled forward. Her slippers were too large and caused an awkward gate. She wiped drool from her mouth. The doors she passed were locked. They were not her focus for today. A barred window spilled light into the facility. She stopped. Her eyes squinted to make shapes of the outside.

There he was. A sturdy lad of seven struggling on his bike. He paused here and there to toss a paper. His breathing was heavy. His smile was wide. He waved to each passerby he saw. His bike was too big and he had a hard time with each stop. As he passed out of sight the boy grinned and straightened his back. She stood with pale eyes glued to the window. Then turned down towards where the screaming had ceased. Heavy feet stuttered forward. The window was behind. A coat took her elbow propelling her along. The white walls were silent as always.