Third Floor Bedroom

Four police officers filed into the house, up two flights of stairs and into the third floor bedroom, the one furthest down the hall with the plain, grey walls. A breeze came through the open window and one of the police officers took notice of a piece of paper, weighted down by a small lamp, flapping violently in the wind. He picked up the letter addressed to no one:

“It all began when someone left the window open. I would like to apologize in advance, for now that you have entered it is too late for you. This room is a magical one, and I’m afraid you are now stuck here. It’s not a bad place, just a lonely one. You see, the walls in this room once occupied hundreds of beautiful white doves, all of which are no longer there. All because someone left the window open. Where are they, you might ask. They’re free now. You won’t understand until you are free. I sincerely hope that you don’t have to stay for too long, and somebody opens the window and grants you your freedom.”

The room once occupied with four police officers, now empty, the open window, now sealed, the once plain grey walls, now decorated with four new beautiful white doves.