All my creation - chapter 1

The light of day intruded in to the office through the opened blinds, forcing little beams of pure brilliance into the room, which crept about the corners and crevices like a forbidden lover on a night time foray into the world of passions and dreams.

Serah cradled her head in her arms, face to the desk, her long dark hair a mess about her shoulders and over the computer keyboard. It had been so long since she had slept at home. How long exactly had it been? She couldn't remember, and now as the invading sunlight kidnapped her from her dreamscape like a damsel in some long forgotten fairy tail, she began to wonder if she had ever lived in the world she was now entering. Or if in fact, this was all some hellish nightmare concocted by her cruel mind in order to punish her. 

Quickly she pushed all such ideas out of her mind as her lucidity returned to her like an errant dog, the last childlike remnants of her dream world, fading against the dark grey tones of her reality. Looking at the clock she realized there was still time. It was only eleven o clock. The remains of the pizza she ordered the night before lay in the box, now curling at the edges with the decay of the night time air. Serah sighed at the waste of money before scooping up the now unwelcome treat into her arms and hiding the evidence of it's existence in the bin under her desk, the cleaners would hide the rest of the evidence and nobody would know. She slipped on her black leather jacket and made her way through the maze of desks and office chairs to the elevator, her escape shaft to freedom.

When she was completely honest with herself, which she rarely ever was, Serah could not remember a time in her life when an ever impending, all encompassing sense of greyness hadn't completely engulfed her being as though she existed only to be consumed by the dullness of an existence just the same as everybody else's. She sighed at the thought of another day alone in the empty house, life hadn't been the same since the death of her mother eighteen months ago. 

Initially Serah had been devastated by the loss, but gradually she realised it might be for the best, the cancer had been stage four by the time of the diagnosis and only a few weeks and options to make her comfortable remained. Her mother had stubbornly refused pain medication no matter how hard Serah worked to change her mind, she didn't want her last days marred by the hazy sickness of morphine. Finally an end came, one autumn day her beloved mother didn't wake up. A sad end to the pain. But at least there was no more. Now the pain belonged to the people left behind. 

The elevator bounced as it reached the ground floor, the familiar beep as the doors opened brought her crashing back to reality. It was raining outside. 

"Shit!" Thought Serah. She had forgotten her umbrella and now she would have to wait until Monday to collect it. She had been thinking of hitting the town to drown her sorrows but if the weekend weather forecast was this bad she might give it a miss.

 She pulled her hood over her head and began to navigate the Saturday morning rush, like a ship amidst a crowded ocean. The rainfall grew stronger. Serah turned onto a small side street in search of a cafe where she could seek shelter.  Quickly she went through the doors without stopping to notice the peeling outer decor or the strange odor dominating from the already crowded cafe. 

She placed herself at a small wooden table towards the back of the room, it was worn with years of use and in need if some repair, it seemed more like a much loved heirloom as opposed to a piece of furniture a commercial business might own, the smoke filled atmosphere almost made her invisible the trendy team of baristas working the array of machines, ovens and serving counters. But not to the petite serving girl making her way through the maze of tables, chairs and people to take her order. Serah used all the effort she could muster to force a smile onto her face, no need to bring anybody else down with her, and besides, she thought, smiling once and a while might actually do her good. 

" black coffee, please" she ordered before the small, smiling girl could ask what she wanted. 

"Of course miss" came the reply as the girl hurried towards the counter to prepare the beverage. 

The rain continued to pour outside, lashing over the gutter and creating torrents which flowed down the cafe windows like a miniature niagra falls in the centre of a crowded city centre. Serah sunk into the wooden seat, settling into the warmth and thankful to be in the dry warmth the cafe provided her. 

It looked as though she was here for the long haul. To the left she spied a sign pointing to the facilities. Sliding off her saturated jacket and replacing it over the back of the rickety old wooden chair she collected her valuables, phone, purse, keys and made her way in the direction of the sign. As she replaced her items securely in her pocket she thumbed the keys. She wondered at the point of them. As with all keys the point was to open something, she knew that. But behind this door lay only emptiness. You didn't need a key to see that.

She had thought about selling the house, she could get a great price for it, purchase a small flat and start again. But letting go was too painful. The house held too many feelings. It was part of her, as much as the pain was. 

In the mirror she sorted her raven hair. Pulling it's length back into a pony tail to stop the wetness from the rain dripping down her oval face. She looked deep into her grey eyes, hardly recognising the girl staring back at her. It was time to make a change.

 She ruffled her grey sweater, thankfully her jacket had kept the rain off. She would be dry soon enough. She left the bathroom and re entered the smokey shop floor of the cafe. The heat hit her like a freight train, not entirely unpleasant but certainly a little uncomfortable, her skin prickled with the warmth. Setting back down in her chair she saw her beverage had been served at the table, and her bill placed under the stylish cup and saucer. For the first time in a long time she felt content. 

As she settled back into the old wooden chair Serah watched the swirling wispy patterns the steam made as it rose from the cup. Like hands reaching out to one another across an eternity of empty air before dispersing as one with the rest of the atmosphere. It made for an interesting display against the cafe's already smoke laden back drop. Serah became drawn into the smokey world above her steaming coffee mug. As she sunk further and deeper into her private universe her encaptured imagination set about frantically creating life in this strange smoke filled dimension.     

In the mist she saw sun beaten deserts, terrifying ruins of once mighty cities, now crumbling into the sand. Forgotten. Further on there was a long and rambling woods where you could become lost forever if you only went so far as to lay one foot off the beaten path. The deepest oceans filled the endless voids between land masses, like a living organism it pushed and pulled against the shores in an unfinishing tug of war with itself. This ocean teemed with thousands of seemingly tiny creatures she had never dared to imagine before in all her life, filling her head with wonder at the possibilities this new, enchanting universe had presented her. 

"Let there be light!" Thought Serah, the irony not entirely lost to her, of course she knew it was make believe. All her being knew it wasn't true, but she was hooked, and in the throes of this sudden addiction her mind worked to reject the reality with everything it could muster in this entranced state. 

Suddenly the strange new world in the smoke dissipated and vanished as a draft blew it to pieces, like some cosmic event knocking the universe out of balance, and all life out of existence. 
Serah hit reality as though she were a suicide jumper from a bridge. Her mind pulling itself from the make believe she had created and firmly placing itself back inside the logical and right. Her coffee had cooled to the point of tasting unbearable. Cold unwelcoming and bitter. Quickly she grabbed her jacket, reached into her pocket and threw enough money onto the table to settle the bill. She hurried to the door, not ready to spend a moment longer in the room which had filled her with such hope and then so suddenly, such disappointment. 

The weather hadn't changed since she left work, the rain continued to pour, torrenting through the streets. The cascading tears of God covering the world. Serah felt suffocated, by her dead end secretarial job, the finality of her mother's death and the house. The house. With its void like rooms, corridors and staircases, filled with nothing but space and her memories of a happier time that now felt so out of reach. She had donated all of her mother's things to charities and church groups, at the time they were too painful to have around, but now she felt as though she needed them, but still, nothing could take away the memories she told herself. 

As Serah approached the door she took hold of the handle and twisted it without hesitation. As though she held the anticipation and relief of ripping off a bandaid. The house lay undisturbed. Not even post lay at the doormat, which seemed strange as she hadn't been home in days. She crept to the kitchen, this place always made her feel as though her right to be there ended with her mother. 

Taking off her clothes she nearly tripped in the wrestle to get them off. The wet fabric of her jeans clung to her leg. Rubbing a sore feeling into her thighs. Eventually they came off, slashing a wet train onto the vinyl flooring. She opened the washing machine door and threw in the sodden jeans, her woolen top and her underwear, she was cold. Hurrying up the seemingly endless staircase, she ran to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Climbing in her body was filled with the welcoming warmth of the cleansing hot waters and surrendered herself completely. 

Feeling more relaxed Serah climbed from the shower and wrapped herself In a large, plumped towel she kept over a radiator. She dried herself. Allowing herself to enjoy the silky sensation of the towel as she ran it over her skin. Although it was early she felt herself tiring. She needed to sleep. 

She walked to the bedroom and climbed into the large, four poster bed. The familiar warmth of it's sheets provided a haven in this desolate cave of despair her home had become. Slowly her mind wandered to the realm of sleep. 

First just colours filled her mind, creating a glorious pastiche of bright lights and possibilities drawing her in, pulling her towards it's ever emanating warmth. In the centre of her vision lay a dark spot. At first tiny and formless against the bright expanse in her minds eye. As the dark spot took shape a soft, inspiring symphony began to wind itself into her ears. The shape grew and took on a pink colour, with colour came form, first a circle, then the edges began to fan outward in concentric patterns, as petals. Falling ever outwards as the music grew louder and all encompassing, her whole being began to shake as the petals opened, breathing life into the lotus. 

Serah was awake. Stunned, she lay there for some time. Surprise had made it so she couldn't speak. On the nightstand had grown a fuschia lotus, fully in bloom.