The Misty Window

5/29/2006 --


One fine day, I stopped in front of a house without knowing why...

It is a house with walls of the palest cream and windows of the simplest oak. Although it may seem ordinary, something is driving me towards it. It is this certain window whose glass panes are misty. Yes, it does seem very strange for it is a clear and sunny day. I approached slowly and cautiously as though I might see something quite unusual through the window.

A girl—that’s all there is inside the room through that certain window. There she is, in the middle of her bed, reading a book. She looks quite young, probably in her late teens, but her face has the sweetness of a little girl. It would have been quite ordinary if it weren’t for the tears running down her cheeks. Oh, I couldn’t see her profile which was turned a bit away from the window, but there are tears – streaming down the contour of her face and falling down the red cover of the book she had just finished reading. No, I don’t think it is the book she is crying about, not unless she is as feeble as a child who would cry at the story of Little Red Riding Hood. It made me wonder why though, of all the books in her shelf, she would pick this one to cry on.

I pondered on a lot of things about the girl I saw as I slowly walked away from her window and from the house. Something about her stroke a chord in me and the grief she radiated was simply overwhelming, and so I tried to recall the story of the Little Red Riding Hood.


I find myself stopping in front of that same house again. Almost everything is the same although the weather isn’t. There are thick and heavy clouds rolling in the sky, covering most of the light of the sun. Once more, I feel the strange pull of the window, and I approach it without so much hesitation.

The girl is still sitting on her bed holding the red book. She is just staring at the wall opposite her bed – staring as though a TV is there and she is watching her favorite movie. But, no, her favorite movie isn’t on… there’s no TV… it’s just an ordinary wall. Suddenly, as my attention went back to her, I realized tears were flowing down her face yet again. There is something uncomfortably eerie with the way she is crying so silently while her eyes are fixed on the wall

I watched her as she cried; not giving a care about the time that had passed by. Something just pulled me and left me standing there, watching the girl as she cried. Slowly, she laid down the red book by her side and silently sat on the edge of her bed. As though she was sitting on fire, she suddenly stood up and ran to her bath, slamming the door shut. I am left here, wondering why all of a sudden she ran as though her life depended on it.

The sky is quickly turning gray, and little drops of rain are falling down. I wanted to move, to run, but I feel rooted to the spot - transfixed on something which other people would not find special.

Then everything went black.


I open my eyes and the rain is already falling very hard, and I’m standing out here, dripping wet, not knowing how long I’ve been here or why I’m even here. I’m in front of the house again but I can just feel like there’s something wrong. In search of the comfort of familiarity, I instinctively ran to the misty window that doesn’t look out of place anymore in this weather.There I see the same girl… facing the window with her face half-eaten by shadows, sitting, no… slumped… to the wall, on the floor by her bed. The next thing I saw shocked me to the core. She limply tries to lay down her arm, and it, instead, drops to her side exposing a hand covered in blood. Blood as deeply red as the book she read—blood which is still flowing from the fresh cut on her wrist.

I told myself to move and call for help. Doesn’t anyone know what’s going on here?! My mind is screaming mad with commands to my body but my limbs are frozen. All I can hear are the deep thuds of my heart as I try to grasp what lay before me. Lightning came and flooded the room with light and I suddenly realize… that the girl was looking at me in the eyes. I gasped as I saw her face, her eyes – that blank look. It's all too familiar. Thunder crashed and as sudden as the sound rang in my ear, I felt a surge of excruciating pain in my chest – a pain that is a combination of certain emotions. I felt it radiate and seep into my hands. Fear, anger, hopelessness, self-pity, loneliness – they are only a part of what I'm feeling. It’s too familiar, these emotions. It’s as though they were there before and I have only neglected about them. I look up; glancing at the girl, but something else caught my attention - the glass of the window and my reflection.

I stared at my reflection and saw my face and burst into tears. I wept as loud and as long as the mother kneeling on the doorway and the wail of the siren in the unseen distance.


Someone is weeping – crying the genuine tears of a shaken child as though it is capable of realizing that the world is coming to an end… as if it can understand emotions as though there is no more hope and that there is only pain left in the world. On and on it goes, and it wouldn’t stop. I opened my eyes and I realized that it's me.

It was me. I looked around and everything is covered in blood and tears stained with crimson are flowing down my face and I am still on my bed. When I saw my reflection, everything went back to me. All those problems, the pain, the depression, and, yes, the sad ending of it all.

But then again, this is isn’t the end is it? Or maybe it is. I don’t know how and I am unable to stop the flow of tears and the sense of grief in my breath. The blood is still pooling all around me. I’m on my bed, sitting down, staring at the red book.

I stand up and I feel the tingle of weakness in every single part of what’s left of me. Slowly, I walk up to the window. It looked bright and beautiful outside, but I was stuck here. The door reflected blood all over it, and the window will always be misty through my eyes.

The house is already empty. I do not know how long it has been – an eternity, maybe. But who cares? I’m all alone in this world.

Collaboration with Red Rivera