The Art of Science

#11 shadows and smoke

"Daddy help me!"

"Please!"

Falkenrath sat up in the clean bed reaching for his glasses, from the bedside table next to him. His eyes searched the dark room. The little girl's voice echoed in his ears, a familiar voice, yet he could not appoint who it belonged to.

Shadows shifted around the room every so often, but when Falkenrath turned his head to get a clearer view of them, they vanished. Like they never existed, however, whenever those shadows appeared, the room seemed to turn darker than before.

Falkenrath pulled up his blanket, shivering from the sudden temperature change. The night kept dragging on, longer and longer and eerily darker with every minute, His eyes felt heavy, but he could not fall asleep once again, it felt as though something was keeping him awake...
The shadows kept weaving in and out of the air, slowly. As though they wanted to get Falkenrath's attention.

"He's coming.."

The same, small voice whispered. Falkenrath jerked awake from his reverie, watching the dark room...

Soon the sound of birds shattered the painful silence, weak streams of light pierced through the shut curtains, finally illuminating the small room. Falkenrath glanced around, checking his surroundings, confused, his gaze landed on the brown clock ticking away on his bedside table.

5:00AM.

He sighed heavily sitting up, dangling his legs off the bed, the unsympathetic oak floor radiated numbing air which pierced his skin as he placed his bare foot down.
He stood up, the warm haven beckoned him to stay, but he shook himself awake, strolling over to the window.

He pulled the curtains apart and light flooded the room, he squinted his eyes, looking out the window, taking in the world outside.

The once green grass was now as white as the walls in the hospital rooms. Roads covered in sheets of ice, the street was quiet, a lot quieter, no cars or people. It was what Falkenrath imagined heaven to be like.

He slowly strolled out of the box room closing the door as he stepped into the long, dark corridor. He glanced to the left where the corridor ended, the white door at the end was closed. Falkenrath slowly walked over and gripped the cold silver handle. The other side of the room was silent, something Falkenrath hated the thought of after getting married to Mathilda.

He sighed and took his hand off the door handle turning around. His gaze shifted to the door on the left, a few feet away. The door was slightly ajar and pinkish light spilled onto the floor and walls of the corridor. Falkenrath cautiously walked towards the door and pushed it open...

Nothing. The empty room stood in silence. The pink walls were bright as the sun shone onto them. on the right stood a single oak bed with blue covers and teddies stacked onto the pillows. in the left corner stood a small oak doll house with a small ceramic doll next to it. Falkenrath looked around the room and shut the door, taking a deep breath, swallowing the painful sorrow in his chest. He turned around and rushed towards the stairs.

Falkenrath strolled into the quiet spacious kitchen.

A female figure stood a few metres in front of him, her white nightgown revealed only her feet, her blue shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders and her brown hair, slightly wavy, resting on her right shoulder a few strands separating from the main body of hair, cascading onto her back.

She stood by the white, ceramic sink taking in the outside world from the window in front of her.
A small, brown radio, on the window sill, filled the kitchen with cheerful swing music and Mathilda tapped her foot, on the cold wooden floor, to the rhythm.

Her face turned and her pink lips formed into a smile.
Falkenrath looked at her and smiled, but soon realized she was watching something or rather, someone.
A young girl strolled into the kitchen, her brown hair matching her mother's, her smile was also the same yet her eyes were as brown as her father's.
With every step, the girl and her blue night gown began to turn to white smoke, fading in and out like the shadows, weaving in and out of the cold air.
"Mira.."
Falkenrath turned his head away from the girl and looked at his wife once again, she had now fully turned to her daughter, and just like Mira, she started to fade into smoke. She took a few steps towards Mira, both of them smiling.
Mathilda held out her hands and Mira accepted the embrace.
As soon as Mathilda held Mira in a tight embrace once more, their bodies faded away into smoke. Silence filled the room. No music. Just silence.
Falkenrath blinked, looking around the room, tears forming in his eyes. Nothing.
No Mathilda.
No Mira.
No smoke.
He even wished for that smoke to come back. To give him a sign they were still here...
But there was nothing. Just an empty, silent kitchen.

Falkenrath took a deep breath and strolled over to the sink, he glanced over at the radio, switching it on. Sadly, he wasn't greeted with cheerful swing music, but rather a boring news report. He sighed and listened to the man on the other side.

"Good morning. Welcome to our morning broadcast. It's currently 5:30 and the sky is clear. Though it is 5 Degrees Fahrenheit and looks like it won't be getting much higher than that all day today. There is also a high chance of more snow today so..."
Falkenrath sighed walking away from the radio, the man continued speaking, which made him feel a lot less lonely.
Falkenrath looked at the small calendar on the cream kitchen wall,
                            11
             September 1980

"One more day.." Falkenrath thought. The image of his wife, making him a birthday breakfast, lingered in his head. How the two most important people to him would sing him 'Happy Birthday' and always make his day cheerful.
His sombre smile disappeared from his face as he wandered out of the kitchen.

The grandfather clock struck weakly, Falkenrath rushed down the stairs and glanced at the clock.
7AM.
When Falkenrath reached the bottom of the stairs he headed over to the wooden coat rack by the door, he grabbed his beige winter coat and slipped it over his brown, tweed suit, looking around the room to make sure he didn't forget anything.
He stopped.
He heard music coming from the kitchen. Swing?
He listened carefully. Jazz. 
His mind went back to when he left the kitchen earlier without switching the radio off. The Jazz playing on the radio confused him and he had hoped he could see Mathilda again.

He sighed grabbing his car keys, from the oak, side table next to him, and rushed into the kitchen switching the radio off.
He rushed back to the door, placing his hat on top of his head, and walked out shutting and locking the door behind him.

The sound of the ticking grandfather clock, in the corridor, filled the silence that Falkenrath had left.

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