Echoes of the Unfinished

By Rosalind Lumos (grade 12)

The thick, gray fog clears as I step into the void of my mind. I look around for a moment, squinting to try and spot any light, movement, or other signs of life in the darkness before me.  I do not know where I am or how I got there, all I know is that it doesn’t feel real. It feels dreamy and false, some kind of imaginary thing I made up for my enjoyment, but I do not feel joy at this very moment. I take a few steps forward, my eyes still squinted and searching anxiously for some sign that I am not completely alone in this black abyss. 

In the distance, as I walk further, my gaze finally lands on a darker spot, a shadow. It moves, and so I step closer to get a better look, and as I inch closer and closer, I soon discover that it is more than just a single blob, it is multiple blobs. They appear as shadows, but are more three-dimensional as if they are solid. I step closer and reach my hand out, and I am surprised to feel another hand grasping my own in response. With a strong grip, it hangs on and picks me up into a light that I didn’t know was there. I yelp slightly in surprise at the sudden movement, though soon I have been placed in another void-like room, this time white and lit up, on an office chair and desk. 

As I look before me, I see a strange individual standing there. She is tall and lean, with a frown and sorrowful look in her eyes. She has many scars, physical ones that I can see covering her body and mental which I cannot see; rather, I can sense them, through the sad look in her eyes. She has no hair, and she wears a simple sports bra and shorts. Her face is vague and uncertain, and she is entirely white. She looks unfinished as if when she was brought into this strange realm I still have yet to understand, she wasn’t ready yet.

“Why did you do this to me?” She asked, her voice low and sensual, yet sad and alone. 

I am surprised and have no idea what she is talking about.

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice quiet and uncertain. 

She frowns, looking down at me with her eyes shining with the moistness of new tears about to fall, and then whispers, “Why did you abandon me? I am unfinished. You gave me this body, this face, a past that I cannot move on from… but I need more. I need color, style, and originality… I cannot be unique when I am not done.”

My jaw gapes open slightly at the comment, my eyes wide and eyebrows high on my forehead, signifying my utter flabbergast. I force myself to relax and think for a moment. I close my mouth, then open it again, then immediately close it once more, hesitating. What am I supposed to say? This strange woman, with no identifying features… What could my role in her suffering possibly be?

“I… don’t know what you mean…” I eventually mumble, looking up into her blank, sad eyes.

“Don’t you remember me? I am yours. You made me.” 

“No… I…” I pause, trying to think back to my real life, outside of this strange realm of imagination and uncertainty, “Where am I?” 

The woman frowns again, crossing her arms over her chest and sighing deeply, sadly.

“This is your mind, of course. A very specific section of it, where all your creations lie. Don’t you remember? This isn’t your real life. In your real life, you are never alone, surrounded by friends, family, and piles and piles of work. You are likely asleep now, and I am not real. Yet, these emotions…” she pauses, placing a hand over her heart, “...They make me feel… so very alive. And you’ve abandoned me.”

I don’t know what to say. What is this place, who is this woman? How could I be talking to her and understanding her pain when she isn’t real? Am I dreaming? 

Finally, I collect myself, and speak once again, “You say I… created you? Are you a character? A sketch? A storyline, perhaps?”

“I am all of those things, child,” she answers in a soothing tone, “I am a character, with lore you intended to put in a story, with a design you started but never finished… I would like for you to come back to me. Please, creator. Help me. Save me. Give me the attributes I need and deserve.”

I frown and open my mouth to speak, to offer the help she needs, but before I can utter a single syllable, I feel a tingling sensation over my body and notice that I have begun to fade away. My surroundings completely dissolve around me and soon everything is black.

As I begin to wake up, my eyes open suddenly and I quickly sit up, panting heavily as I have a strange sense of panic from what I just dreamt. I look at the clock and frown at how early it is, but for some reason I am urged out of bed, getting up, and walking to my dresser. I grab all my sketchbooks and frantically flip through the pages until I stop, finding an unfinished sketch I had started in class a couple of days before. I pause, think for a moment, and then grab my pencil, get back in bed, and finish the drawing.

Hopefully, her suffering can finally end.