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Prompt: The Open Window

Rough Prompt Fiction By Lauryn Lambert.

I’ve been thinking about that window for as long as I can remember. There is a blue wall against my back, an eggshell green wall to my right, and to my left is a mustardy wall with a door. But right across from me is a golden yellow wall, with a window.

At first all I did was glance at it now and again, playing with the small thought about how nice it would be to look out, or to even climb out, but those wonderings never remained. As the years go on, however, the more I find myself looking at it, admiring the colour and the peeling paint. I watch the panes, and the light reflecting through them. Every now and again I even catch myself staring.

I could move my position of course and look at the door, and some days I do. I know what is behind the door, but it breaks up the continuation of walls.

I begin to suspect that this window fascination is going to be a problem, when I begin reading books about windows, and all the beautiful things beyond. 
I read stories about people gathering up the courage to look out, and eat up everything they learned. I’m in awe of the people, and characters that open the windows and even climb out! Can you believe that?

It seems impossible for me. A nice dream to have. Special people, talented people look out windows. Brave people open them, and the truly heroic leap into the unknown. I was neither special, nor talented, brave, or heroic. It was nice to imagine, to lose myself in the fantasy of maybe. 

I would never admit to anyone that I even think about looking out a window, or that I read about them. I’ve seen the looks that people give those people who swear they have seen the light, and cannot do anything but obsess about how to get out there. Every now and then one of them disappears and I wonder what really happened to them.

One day I was feeling a bit sick, or maybe a smidge abnormal, a tad reckless even, and I peeked up and looked out. Just like that. No thought about it or anything. I sat down underneath the sill in shock.
What had possessed me to do that? I was overwhelmed with the light, movement and colour!
I was very very clearly not cut out for looking out windows!

I put the idea out of my mind for a very long time. Then another day, I found one of those old stories, and I began to doubt my assertation. Perhaps my ego was out of balance that day, but I gripped the window ledge, took some deep breaths and tried again.

Oh it was amazing, and terrifying, exhilarating and overwhelming. My eyes were tired from the colours and movement, and my brain struggled to understand what I was seeing. Everything frightened me!
Some days all I did was stare out the window and the things it showed, other days I couldn’t even bring myself to look at it, and this continued for days on end.

One thing was certain, I couldn’t go back. My eyes adjusted, my habits adjusted. And even if I didn’t look at it, or look out it’s panes, I thought about looking, and that was something. I was feeling entirely rebellious and reckless the day just before the new year, and I put my hand on the latch.
Surely if other people had opened windows, I could too!?

I was practiced at looking out now, and I was sure I could work out how to open the mechanism. After all I had read books about it, and numerous explanations of how a window was to be opened, it was high time I tried. Who knew when I’d get a moment like this again?
Surely I was wasting my life if I didn’t try?

Or was I? What if I tried and I couldn’t do it? What if someone wrote a book about how horrible I was at opening a window? What if I wasn’t strong enough? Was I really brave enough? 

I wasn’t sure, so I lay back and stared at the ceiling instead. This continued for many weeks, many months and many years. Many doubts were discussed. Nothing was decided for sure. Should I? or should I not?Could I? Or could I not?

So one day, I tried.

It was hard to breathe but there it was. The window was sitting open, and I had opened it.

My heart was racing.

What could I do now?

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