The Orange Room

He awakens on weathered planks. The taste of salt on his dry, cracked lips burns the corners of his mouth. As he pushes himself off the dewy wooden pier body aching, head throbbing with no memory of how he arrived. The boardwalk stretches before him leading to a building. A modern, angular building with a orange glow bleeding through floor to ceiling windows. He takes a step towards the building, as if the glow was a beacon, calling to him.

A thought comes rushing into his mind, breaking up the fog of his mind, why would he think of her nightlight now? Panic sets in, he rushes towards the building.

As he approaches at the glass door, he catches a glimpse of his own reflection, The image staring back at him is not quite right, a representation of his inner turmoil and for a moment, he sees not his face, but his home through the cold, bitter rain. A window broken is window across the far side of the building. It’s only then that Nathan remembers. The overturned furniture, the blood stains on the tile, the smell of gunpowder.

He presses his forehead to the glass, the cool wet surface against a warm, sticky streak of blood reminds him of everything. The man with the knife falling to his knees as the echo of warm metal clashing against a hardwood floor, the screams of his family. In the room he sees two balls of light, hovering near the glass. One of them is pulsing, faintly. while the other has started to move. move towards the glass door, towards him.

Nathan watched the ball move through the glassdoor and towards to ocean. This is where Nathan noticed that the pier he was standing on, was not the only pier, but was a never ending line of piers. Each with their own building, their own orange glowing light and their own person watching from the outside looking in. What is this place, he said to himself.

Nathan turned around has he noticed and change. The hue of the space began to shift, first red, then blue, then red again. The screams that once echoed in his head have faded into distant sirens. The pier beneath him feels less substantial now, caught between two worlds. He steps back from the glass, heart struggling to beat. Maybe, just maybe, if he can hold on long enough.

The lights pulse faster. A rhythm like hope.