Creature in the small room…

    Story:  I’ve heard tales from extraordinary people who swear they will never again go into the small room again.  For it is said; inside that room lurks a creature so hideous, so disfigured, and so cruel, it has the power to inflict not only tremendous physical, but emotional pain of such severity that whosoever should enter its domain may not recover at all, or at a minimum seek professional help!  Although not directly, I’ve personally heard the susceptibility of women to this phenomenon is frightening; furthermore, their futile charade of feigning invisibility while attempting to slip between two different worlds is legendary amongst females; they are fooling no one!  Those who are aware of what goes on around them know anyone can be driven to all manner of foul acts when entering that small room and that it has never been gender specific; furthermore, as we progress as a civilization, the frequency of these illnesses with regards to males is increasing. The world of reality is simple. When small, tender, pink toes of innocence touch a cold tile floor in the early morning, and the creature that lurks behind closed doors across the room are two very different things. Armed with character, wishes, and sweet fragrances, few women are a match for the evil awaiting them each day.    I’ve heard this from drug addicts needing all the help they can get to quit.  After being tormented all night, only to be ridiculed and chastised into submission and forced to play with the monkey again after entering this room.  Most are unprepared for that which awaits their fragile bodies and minds.  Fairness is blocked from entry, as if a crucifix is held up against evil!  Kindness doesn't even try; for it also is not allowed nor will it be tolerated in the midst of that which occupies  every cheap, foul, tenement trap, nor Beverly Hills mansion.  Alcoholics are no different nor any safer when steeped in grog; they spout similar occurrences and references of a vile and uncompassionate stalker occupying a small room in a flat the state provides.   Living half in fear and half in physical pain, they hold-up in their hovel, swigging with the iridescent friend in their raised hand who will listen to their distorted views of reality, their bottle.  Of course their companion only listens while the nectar flows.  To stop drinking and enter the small room can be intolerable cruelty to the uninitiated or sober.   Many see insects of all species attacking and crawling on the very person they hope to save.   Everyone has a small room of their own.  The aforementioned crutch of alcohol barely slows the attack of insults; reality can be very cruel at times.  Many perfectly healthy people will not enter the room unless forced by physical need.  Surprisingly, habit usually overcomes the very real fears of the elderly.  This indiscriminate creature plays no favorites while awaiting their frailty.  They are reminded of a time they can only see with closed eyes; a distant image just inches from the grasp of a shaking hand.  Kind eyes and deeds play no part in the moment, nor do they help a dimming sight.  All have a small room and all have company waiting.  Some are lucky enough to have friends who wait impatiently for their return from the small room; you know, that special somebody who acknowledges you with quick smile upon returning when they notice you are scanning the table from afar to see if you were missed.  They are the ones who are quick to bring up one of your favorite memories to cheer you up because you get such great pleasure in telling the tale.  These are the companions who are cherished.  Many are not so fortunate to have such an understanding friend.  Many live alone, and except for sounds entering the single pane glass from the street below, have very little interaction other than the creature waiting for them in the small room. It is with great effort some muster the strength to venture out of their repetitive worlds to experience and meet those who have taken it upon themselves to provide comfort and solace.  This is a simple truth; yet a shame, for no one should be alone.  We must all strive to make those around us smile.  We need to assure everyone else, we all have to enter the small room and greet the past that will be there waiting; for the lucky ones, the future of one more day brings a smile; as such, their new friend holds the door for them as they leave.  Know that everyone has ‘the creature in the bathroom’ and that a smile from a friend waits just down the street, at the other end of that phone line, or in the soft, brown eyes of the one licking your hand as you sit.

    For lack of a better word, I will call this creature:  “Creature in the Bathroom mirror” or “Bathroom”.  RJ

Back