the fourth wall
break it, watch it crumble
(I)
You sit in your room on your bed staring out the window on the wall in front of you;
the only wall that was painted black -
the other three walls behind you, to your left and right were white.
What an odd colour scheme, they said.
Why would you even do that, they asked.
They could never understand that you simply didn't want that wall there:
painting it black made that wall blend with the night sky; so every night you could sleep
with the stars dancing about in your room,
whispering secrets of the universe to you as your lullaby.
(II)
There was one night where you decided to break that wall permanently.
You've stayed quiet for so long, ignoring the stars floating by your window
and ignoring the bzzt sounds that crept in from the crack in the window
every time a star got too close to the glass.
Some bumped into the glass, flickering as they fluttered down to your windowsill,
flickering and then turning to little black pieces of coal - blending in with your black wall.
You sat up, took the glass of milk on your bedside table and walked over to the window.
One by one you flick the dead stars into the glass. You watch them dissolve in the milk
with the psst sounds ringing in your ears, the whispers guiding you back to your bed.
You drink from the glass in one go, placing it back on the table once you emptied the glass.
(III)
Silence.
The whispers stopped ringing in your ears and you heard something
rumbling from your core instead. You felt it creeping up,
gnawing at your throat, bubbling in your mouth and then you screamed.
Five counts, and you stop.
You watched the sound waves ripple across the room to the black wall,
waves of gold glowing and crashing against it, cracking the black wall.
You watched the waves of gold wash over the crumbling black wall, and then
you see three birds flying past the gaping hole in your room.
A wave washes over one of them, and the bird struggled;
drowning in the vast black ocean of the sky.
You gasp, but no sound came out.
The other two birds pecked at the drowned bird, unraveling it
to form a long, thin black thread which one bird held in its beak.
The other flitted about and caught a silver needle that fell once the dead bird was fully unraveled,
and then they flew towards you.
(IV)
You've done it, they whispered; you're finally free.
They flew towards you and began stitching your lips shut. You sat in silence,
feeling no pain,
yet you felt warm tears wet your cheeks
when you closed your eyes as the whispers echoed in your head, in your own voice:
I'm finally free.
(V)
When the stitching was complete you opened your eyes,
and saw nothing but snow.