The Window

 

THE WINDOW

by Dustin T. Money

I lay in my bed. It was a large, round, padded mattress, comfortable beyond imagining. There were more pillows strewn around me than I could count on both hands, yet still plenty of room without overcrowding me on it’s soft surface. The room was a yellow tinted twilight, as if lit by a few candles, yet none were to be seen. In fact, no obvious light source was there at all. A perfumed breeze rolled over my skin. Still, like the lights, there were no vents or cracked doors or open windows that were obviously letting in this blowing fragrance. That was definitely for the best.

 

There was one window in the center wall that my bed was facing. It was quite large. The wall itself was about twenty foot long and fifteen foot high, and the border around the window could have only been about three or four feet wide. The wall itself was made of a glossy metal, with smooth rivets like buttons, and lines zigging and zagging across in geometric patterns. It was most definitely more of an artistic design than it was a process of bolting the wall up. Other than the bed, the room was fairly bare. Only the essentials. A small table, water dispenser on the wall beside of it, next to it was a receptacle that food was retrieved from, and beyond that, a disposal receptacle. Everything was flush with the wall, even the table folded in to match the designs when not in use.

 

But that window. There was no view like it you could imagine without knowing it with your own eyes. I would stare at it from the bed until I drifted off into a slumber, and wake to bask in the view for half an hour before arising. I’d pace the length of the wall, examining, learning every detail I could see. I sat at the table eating my meals, taking in the scene perfectly framed by this window.

 

 

I seldom left this room. It was my home. My meals were delivered via the receptacle, a small bathroom discretely hidden by a door that melded into the patterns in the walls, in which I took warm baths and relieved myself when the needs arose. Most of my time was consumed studying the view beyond the glass.

 

 

What lie beyond the window varied day to day. Billions of stars burned for me to count. Planets with whirling storms, and countless colors entertained my mind. Comets and asteroids plowed by, leaving trails of debris, particles, gases and ions. Some days super novas lingered for me to study as if a delicate painting left by the cosmos itself.

 

I scratched at my collar, a light leather like material, with spirals and squares decorating it. The underside was padded, and covered in silk, soft against my skin. My name was engraved in a small metal plate on the front. Kendall. Below it, was my caregiver’s.

 

My caregiver was around 8 foot tall, slender, with long arms and legs, and skin the color of diamonds. An aura seemingly glowed about him. He would walk me through the halls sometimes, and I enjoyed it; his company, how he would tell me of his day, and stroke my hair. I remained silent as I always have, though. Even during these times my mind would wander to the window regardless if it was in sight or not. He eventually would retreat to his quarters, and I would make quick steps back to mine, to observe the universe outside my window.

 

It was a simple life. Food always available, water at my leisure, companionship with daily walks, and comfort in my room. Nowhere beckoning me to be on time, or on schedule. Nothing to be late to, or to fail at. And that amazing view.

 

 

When these situations first arose, people were taken aback by it, but really they only did as we did before. We took the species of lesser intelligence than ourselves we were fond of, and fed and housed, and loved them for thousands of years.

 

There was no shame in being a pet.

 

Hello!

This will be my first post on my new blog. I’ll be using this for my personal writing and art. I write short stories, and poetry, as well as do artwork in painting and other mediums.  I may write other types of articles and essays as well.