NeverSkurred’s Mind Infection – Writing Assignment #2: A Room with a View (Or Just a View)

   So for this assignment I was asked to transport myself anywhere I wanted and describe where that was. I thought to myself, what if I really could transport myself anywhere…but had no choice as to the outcome of my arrival? Let me know what you think.



Cerise slowly opened her eyes.  How did she end up on the floor? There was no way she drank that much last ni–wait. What time was it, anyway? Sleep blur cast a haze over the room. After a few rubs, she still couldn’t get her eyes to focus. She noticed the vestiges of a headache.

 What the–?

 She rolled onto her side and there, right by her head, were a pair of gold wire-framed eyeglasses. Being so close to her face, they were the only thing currently in focus. She grabbed them and put them on. The world quickly sharpened to high definition clarity.

So much better! Except…ummm…I don’t wear glasses.

 She sprang up to a sitting position and looked around her. She was in a strange room. It wasn’t a bad room. It was actually kind of nice. It appeared to be a den or study. She ran her fingers against the fuzzy blue carpeting beneath her. On the wall opposite her was a spacious window opened to let in the light and fresh air of a lovely, warm afternoon.  White lace curtains danced in the breeze. A wind chime just outside sang its festive tune.

There was one closed door to her left. She didn’t need to check it to know that it was unlocked. With the exception of the breeze and wind chime, there was no other noise around her. She appeared to be alone there.

But where am I?

 Cerise arrived at the conclusion that she was in a study based on the fact that the only pieces of furniture in the room were a large white bookcase filled with books against the wall to her right, and a mirror hanging on the wall just beside it.

Cerise got to her feet. The action took  less time than usual for some reason. She was a fit, in-shape individual who jogged every morning and did yoga five days a week. Getting up from the floor wouldn’t be a chore for her. Yet, somehow, this time seemed more…


 She slowly walked toward the mirror. She instinctively chose to rest her eyes on the mirror as a whole and not look at her reflection in the glass. Again, it was a nice piece. Oval shaped and framed in ornately designed gold.

 I will say that whoever lives here has good taste.

 Finally, she couldn’t avoid it any longer. There simply weren’t enough other things in this room to distract her. She had to look in the mirror. She had no idea where she was or how she got here but she needed to see her own face to relax at that moment.

That’s not crazy, right? It’s just absolutely necessary at this time. Okay, here we go.

 With a sigh and shake of her head, Cerise approached herself.  She got a glimpse of her reflection and froze. Her heart stopped for an instant. She wasn’t even breathing. She simply stood there stone still.

Who–? Who in the HELL IS THAT?!

 Staring out from the mirror at Cerise was a young woman of about thirty. She had pale skin dotted with freckles and fiery red hair that tumbled down to her shoulders. Her wire-framed glasses fit her face rather nicely. Tiny diamonds sparkled in her ears. She wore light makeup. She looked fresh. She was attractive. She looked nothing like Cerise.

Based on the height of the mirror, she also appeared to be a full twelve inches shorter than Cerise. That explained the ease with which she sprang from the floor earlier.

Cerise refused to allow the panic that was fringing the edges of her brain to take hold. She had to think.

Okay. What is the last thing that I remember from last night? I was with friends. We were having a good time. We had just finished hearing the speaker who lectured about marketing strategies and –ohmygodwhatthefuckisgoingon–?

 Cerise’s memory flashed back to her. That’s right! Just last night she was in attendance at the Young Black Professionals mixer.

Young…BLACK…who the hell is in that mirror?! And who the hell is Cerise?! My name is Walter!!!!

 Cerise, that is to say Walter began screaming. It was the scream of a mind that is perilously close to becoming unhinged.  The mirror shattered and fell from the wall. The gold frame hit the carpet with a muffled thump.

Cerise/Walter crumpled to the floor in her/his own heap and rocked back and forth, palms pressed firmly to his/her face. She/he/they never stopped screaming.

Walter!!! My name is Walter! Waaaaallllttteeeerrrrr!!!!!




 Hey, Walter!


 Yo, Walt!


 Hey, Walt! Wake up, man!

 huh? wha–?


Walter slowly opened his eyes.  How did he end up on the floor? There was no way he drank that much last ni–wait. What time was it, anyway?

“Walt! There you are, man! Damn! We carried your drunk ass out of the mixer, poured you in the car drove you home and you still never woke up. Can you make it to your bedroom or should I put a pillow and blanket down there on the floor?”

Sleep blur cast a haze over the room. After a few rubs, he still couldn’t get his eyes to focus. He noticed the vestiges of a headache.

 What the–?

 He rolled onto his side and there, right by his head, were a pair of shiny black Gucci dress shoes. Being so close to his face, they were the only things currently in focus.

Mike. Those are his shoes. If he’s not wearing SOMETHING Gucci, his outfit is simply incomplete.

 Walter slowly worked his way to sitting. He craned his neck to see his best friend Mike’s blurry face smiling down at him.

“Mike. How long was I out?”

“About twenty minutes after the bar went cash. So about two hours.”

“Jesus! How much did I drink?

“A LOT! But that’s not what took you out, in case you’re wondering.”

“Say what?”

Mike laughed heartily. It was the kind of laugh that only comes from the memory of  the most juicy and hilarious of recalled events.

“Wow, she really did a number on you, huh?”

Walter didn’t think he could be more confused but yet–


“That guy Jones brought that redhead to the mixer. Umm…Cerise, I think her name was?”

Walter was fully awake now.

“Remember, Walt? You asked her why she would be at a Young Black Professional mixer and she said that she liked young black professionals so it seemed like the perfect place for her to be?”

Walter did vaguely remember. He chuckled.  The laughter somehow caused a shot of pain into his left eye.

“Walt you have GOT to remember what you said to her. I have never seen a woman knock the shit out of ANYONE like she did you! You went down like a ton of bricks!”

A wave of disgust, shame and embarrassment washed over Walter. He did remember what he said. Ugh. He really did need to stop drinking.

“Get me a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer, would you, Mike?”

Mike dashed into the kitchen and returned with a bag of Green Giant peas. He handed them to Walter, who immediately pressed them to his now throbbing eye.

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem. So?” Mike asked.

“So what?” Walter evaded.

“What did you say to make Miss Cerise knock you the fuck out?” Mike made sure that he said knock you the fuck out in his best impersonation of Chris Tucker from the movie “Friday.”

Walter sighed. He really was going to at least cut back on his drinking.

“I said–“ he began. His shoulders hunched and he suddenly had to fight his gag reflex.

“Yes?” Mike pleaded.

“I told her I wanted to…”

Mike began shuffling from one foot to the other like an excited kid. He was relishing this a little too much for Walter’s taste.

“What? What?! Wanted to what?”

“Okay, OKAY!” Walter sighed and decided to just spit it out. “I told her that I wanted to live inside her, alright?!”



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