1: Chicken-Soup
The oculus is alive with a raging fire as sunlight stretches across the redwood floor. I peer out at the living sky from Nest. A blanket knitted in twists the color of blackberry blood wraps over my boney shoulders speckled with dry skin. They itch like hell and look like chipped wall paint. I open my eyes. They feel like old doors. Nest keeps me 1) warm and 2) safe in the cool dwelling of the moon-period.
I glance at each corner of Room. Over each leaf outside, at each wood panel the color of a leaf on a wall, and each piece of floor wood the color of an overripe cherry. Golden threads of my hair peer over either side of my vision. My hair is the same color as a wet stone. I stretch my body out of Nest and walk toward my books. I delicately brush my fingers along them as if to notice each one is present. A, B, C, D, and many other titles. The pages are kept warm. Wrapped in musky leather from a bull—that is where leather comes from, I read in “L.” These are my guides to the world. I have no way of knowing if they are true or not, but everything aligns with unsaturated photographs that I recognize. Given this, I find hope that they are books of truth.
Tinny, I know is a crow, because there is a picture of a dark bird with a sharp beak beside the word “crow” and it looks just like her. It is also said in “C” under “crow” that they bring shiny objects to you in exchange for feed. This, I also know to be true. Tinny brings me more than shiny objects. She will bring button, thread, paper, and glass, to list only a few. She brings a multitude of things that I read about in books to the one small window in the North wall.
The sun shines brightly through the sky window─ oculus. I lay where a harsh square of sunlight meets the ground from the oculus, a sunspot in the middle of the floor. I rub my arms and my legs and feel the wood floor surrounding my body. A shiny coin rests beneath my finger, and a Cat’s Eye marble rolls along the crevice in the hardwood. I grab my small mirror and peer into its reflective surface. My eyes roll back and forth like Cat’s Eye marbles examining my ears, and pale skin with raspberry-blotted cheeks. The sunspot moves across the floor. I lie down for what felt like a long time. I move spots across the room until it reaches the wall and disappears, and I can’t lie in it anymore. I measure the time based on where the sun is in Room. I know of clocks because of “C,” and have asked Tinny nicely for one, but she doesn’t understand. She is a crow, not a Comb or possibly Giver. I am Comb; called after the first object Tinny brought me. Tinny brought me a shiny round shape with holes like eyes. I name her Tinny, like tin.
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2: Fish-Things
I hear a rustling near the door, a clink, a tap, and a tap. The slot slides open and in rustles a plate made of ceramic that holds my meal: crunchy fish things, dark on the bottom, and a sour sauce I think I can identify as tartar based on my previous research. My fingers graze across the edges of the plate. They go up and down in porcelain waves and come to a stop with a small chip. I count each wake and sleep based on one of the seven meals given to me on each sun period. Each full light-to-dark cycle has a different meal, and it repeats. I’ve decided that fish things are the second of seven in the cycle. I pick up the food delivered to me by Giver and shove the first fish thing in my mouth. I’ve been hungry as I’ve been able to smell the fish cooking for several moves in the sunspot. I finish eating and am weighed down by the warmth of the fish in my belly. I slide the plate back to where the small door opens. I leave half of a fish thing in my pocket to give to Tinny. I can’t slide the plate outside of Room as the door latch is only opened by Giver, but I always put my dishes licked clean within reach. Giver is kind, Giver brings warm food. Due to this consistency, I know Giver cares about my wellness. Giver makes my belly feel warm and relaxed, therefore making me feel warm and relaxed.
I get up and walk to Bathing Room and turn on the waterspout. I take handfuls of water and cup them to my mouth. A cold stream trickles down my neck onto my sky-stone-colored sweater. I take my razor blade given to me by Tinny and take it with me back to Room. I return to my spot on the floor. The sky is the same color now as the plate I licked clean a sunspot ago. The sky sinks into a deeper shade. Everything around me feels illuminated with fire; I feel as if I live in the sun. I love this part of the sun-time. World is engulfed in a sunspot, and warmth is felt in every corner of Room.
I hear a tap, a tap, a caw. Tinny is here. I shuffle over in my overly large socks to the window and with the latch, push the window open. This is the only way I can feel Outside. I stick my nose out into the breeze. The window is not large. It is about the size of two fish things stacked atop each other and one-and-a-half-eaten fish things wide. I know because I was curious and measured. There’s a small ledge on the window where Tinny can leave my gift in exchange for the half-eaten fish thing. I wait for her to release the treasure from her grip. Out of her sharp beak drops a crumbled piece of foil. I grab it with the tips of my fingers and she flies into the open. I wish I could leave with her to explore the trees and touch a leaf from the tree itself. Pick it off and hold life in my hand.
Room darkens with the sun’s departure. Everything I was able to see moments ago melts into the dark; sunspots turn into gemstone patterns in my vision. I haven’t any means of light in Room, therefore with the beginning of each moon-period, my eyelids shut leading me into a deep slumber. I wrap up in my nest and look at the watercolors dance like a Kandinsky painting I saw in “K.” Weaving back and forth between each other. Dancing like birds on a branch.
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3: Cheese-Sandwich
Brightness! Room is alive with the rising sun. My eyes peel open, the light burns first and then warms my eyes like blankets in Nest. I am immediately drawn to my collection. Every little piece is scattered across the floor. Army man in the corner, protecting all sides of Room. He looks like he is made of leaves in color, strong with his rifle. I compared the shape of the object in his hand to a photograph in “R.” I saw my Cat’s Eye marble, a collection of foil spheres, pebbles maybe from a stream, two rhinestone jewels bright like the sun, a razor blade, and mirror. I release myself from every thread holding me down to Nest and step each foot out, one at a time. I wiggle my toes. My sock begins to slip off, so I pull it back on. I step, step, step on the floor.
I sit in the middle of Room and pick up the razor blade and mirror. I carefully trim each hair on my face until they are all short by my skin. This process takes several sunspots typically. I had planned to do it last sun-period, but it must be done first upon waking to ensure I have plenty of light. Clip, hair falls, clip, hair falls. CLIP! Blood! Flowing a river of blood. A half-bitten raspberry on my chin─ drip! Drip! Drip! On my reflection. I’m turning red! I grasp for a blanket and hold it to my throbbing jaw. Cuts happen occasionally, so I’m an expert at fixing my face quickly and stopping the leak. I wipe off the mirror smearing a red haze over it, dark blots like night spots dyed on the blanket. My face is clean of hair, it shines in the ray of the sun. I wash off in Bathing Room.
There’s a spot of loose wood hanging off the wall opposite my bed. I can identify each wall: There is loose-wood wall, small-window wall, bed-wall, and door-wall. Giver doesn’t come in my room during the sun-period, so I wonder how well they know my room, therefore, knowing to fix this loose spot on the wall. Sometimes I hear the creek on the wooden floor in the middle of the night, but I never see them lurking about. I observe the loose-wood wall, carefully tugging at the loose plank with what strength I have. It breaks off the wall. Particles of paint scatter in the sunspot. I lay it on the floor beside the wall. The painted panel coming off revealed a non-painted panel. The color of a real tree, like the floor. I am drained from fixing the loose-wood wall, so I rest in the sunspot for a while. It begins to move closer and closer to the middle of the room, this means it is almost meal period. My eyes fall shut.
Tap, tap, and tap. Slide! The ceramic plate holding the meal slides into the room, it wakes me. I turn around and see it is a cheese-sandwich. I stumbled up from my spot on the ground and bring the plate towards me. Eating around the crust first to the middle of the sandwich. I save the last warm and melty bite for Tinny, placing it directly on the windowsill in time for her arrival. Rather quickly after, I hear her flapping around and look out to see her choking down the cheese-sandwich. However, she leaves nothing. I feel a stillness come across me. Nothing from my Tinny.
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4, 5, 6: Meat-on-Bone, Raviolis-in-Can, Thick-Meat-Soup
The following sun-to-moon-periods brought the most unfamiliar occurrences. It rained nearly every moment the sun was up—No sunspots. It was almost impossible for me to tell the time, leaving me in a haze throughout the entire sun-period. Tinny didn’t visit at all. I was alone. A small fuzzy creature entered Room on the second of the three sun-to-moon periods. I was determined to nourish life outside of myself in Room. It would be Tinny and me, and now Other. I named the creature Other since it didn’t present an object to name him after. It was also my other in Room. He is colored like a small cloud with a naked tail. It frantically scratched across the floorboards in all different directions, like it couldn’t decide where to stand first. It made me smile. I went to sleep as Other explored Room. I woke to a scratch! A tap! At my window during the moon-period. My chest grew thick, and an internal pain echoed when I heard a harrowing squeal. Somehow Other was able to slip out of the window. Had I forgotten to shut the latch? Was it my fault? I had my first touch of life directly inside Room, which I may never feel again.
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7: Sliced-Meat-Sandwich
I wake. My eyes try to remember the feeling of the warm sun again. I look out at the light embracing the trees. I stretch out of bed and walk to the small-window wall. At the ledge of my window are small ponds of dark blood. Then I realize, Other! What was left on the windowsill make my skin crawl. Key. Tinny had left me a key before. My Tinny had taken Other with her claws. Sharp blades in the back of the poor creature. I stick my nose out the window, my eyes are wet. I look at a tree in the near-distance alive bearing many flowers. The color reminds me of Other’s little tail. I begin to yearn for lost life when I notice Nest in the flower tree. I read a lot about birds ever since I met Tinny. I sleep in Nest, but this is the first time in my memory I recall ever seeing one other than my own. I see a bird dark as night dance around Nest and immediately identify that bird as crow. Not only a crow— Tinny! A hard thump is alive in my chest. I observe Tinny’s knitted blankets of sticks, bones, and pine. What I know of birds is they use Nest for sleep when they have eggs. Tinny works hard to care for eggs I think, feeling proud of my bird-friend. I feel a new sense of hope and give Other’s taking a new purpose. Life. When will Tinny’s eggs hatch like they say in book “B” about birds? I’m unsure. I get down and stretch out across the floorboards, lying in the hot sun.
I wake to a rustling at the door, I see a sliced-meat-sandwich with soft cloud bread on a raspberry-colored ceramic plate. I eat until there is but a piece of crust left, I only leave a small piece for Tinny, because she shouldn’t be hungry after such a feast. She takes the crust and brings back nothing. It seems to me Tinny doesn’t really like the sandwiches. The long sun-period feels uneasy, my stomach hurts after the events of the past sun-to-moon-period. Dark spots blot my dizzy eyesight like I’m living in a never-ending moon-period. I feel weak, so I crawl into Nest early and sleep.
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8: Flight
Blink. Bright! Sunrays flood each corner of Room. I sit up in Nest and grow cold when my eyes meet the floor. Rigid footprints of what looks like blood across my floor. They aren’t normal footprints like mine are, so it is not from human. My water-wet footprints are round and small. These are different. They are made of rectangles and small circles that are webbed together in patterns. I am scared as to what life has entered Room. Bad-Other. I am spinning and can’t keep my eyes in one place, they roll around like marbles. I think of the pool of blood left from Other; something has been here that wants to take me like Other. Put blades in my back and eat me! I begin to walk quickly around Room. I know now I must escape for my own life before Bad-Other returns.
I gently try to open the door, which I have done before with no luck. Tug! Tug! No budge. Only my arm can fit through the small-window where Tinny visits so that won’t be able to escape the same way Other did. I stand on Nest and try to reach oculus. Too high up. I remember loose-wood wall, this could be my only way of safety-escape. I am pained at the loss of Room to come. Who will take care of Tinny? Maybe I could return after Bad-Other is away from Room. My collection will be lonely without my care. I can only take a few things with me in my small pouch attached to my shorts. I gather Cat’s Eye marble, small blade, key, speckled-pebble, comb,and silver-coin to take with me. These I determine are my most important objects for survival. I’m not sure of the force pushing me out of Room, as it never has occurred previously, but I know it is what I must do. I must do it fast.
I begin to tug at the loose-wood wall, snap! A plank off. Snap! Paint specks fly across the room. Snap! I manically dig deeper and deeper into the wall. I hear from the other side of the door, footsteps are approaching. My insides grow static. I feel as if I’ve swallowed a storm. SNAP! Snap! A loud crack and an echo flood my hearing. Light leaks through the hole dug in the wall, a new window. I look in through the hole and see Other-Room. Nest like mine sits across the way, a small shelf, no books. It looks just like Room. Tap, tap, slide, SLIDE! The door to Room opens. I’m unable to see Room clearly as my eyes shake in their sockets. A larger than life man peers over the corner. He wears a light-sky button-up shirt, a blood-colored tie, and suit pants. His thin dark hair is like little stripes combed over his head; he has a large belly bulging from his ill-fitted shirt. I look down and see large rigid feet. They match the blood-footprints I saw. Bad-Other! The door is open, and I am without hesitation on my feet. I run through the door to Room. Farther than I’ve ever run, out of Room. New-Room I enter is like Maze. I can’t seem to find my way out and I am chased by the big man. I run from the monster. I am growing dizzy with a stabbing pain breaking through my chest. I see another door, I grip the handle and with a tug, I open the door. I hatch into the open. My eyes swell. Salt fills my mouth, blubbering with tears. Outside is cold. Yet, I feel a burning glow everywhere on my body in the sun.
I don’t know where to look first. House behind me standing over me like a giant rock. I look through each window like eyes. I walk behind House into the trees, I am led to the blossom tree. I approach the tree and touch its scales in wonder. I latch on to a branch and climb, I am weak but every breaking wind from my chest pulls me toward the sky. I sit on the branch like a bird. I look far up in the tree and lose a breath when I see Tinny’s Nest, maybe she was in there. I can’t get up so far, as I am too big, but I smile, as we sit in the same tree. This is what I see in dream-sequence every night, there is a scene of me and Tinny in a tree. Familiarity of this moment washes over me as I feel I’ve lived it every sleep. I glance over to House and see the window. I look around. I see many other Houses, but I don’t see any other life. I am far away from House now, the blossom tree I saw from Room was far enough to hide. I feel safe from Bad-Other. I feel safe like I feel in Room. I look up and see a small fluffy bird, the color of night. It’s leaped out of Tinny’s Nest! I reach my cupped hands out, catch little-crow in my palms, and look into the eyes of new life.
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Harrison Hebb is a writer living in Tyler, Texas, and was raised in Lincoln, Nebraska. A handful of his work focuses on the queer experience. He is studying English and Creative Writing. He is unpublished but is writing a short-story collection that features this story, Crow. He loves his dogs, Charlie and Franklin.
© 2023, Harrison Hebb
Halfway Down the Stairs 