Anomalies

Nia Edwards

I kneel on my bed that wears blue covers. Flashlight shining in my sweaty hand, molasses
eyes jittering through blackness, my breath is a piano, playing Tchaikovsky. I hear a long break
to my right, so I jolt. I whip my head around and the flashlight follows. I spot a lamp on my
nightstand. A teal lamp, like my mothers favorite blouse. It isn’t my teal lamp though. Mine was
orange. I turn to the left now, confused, and find my wardrobe missing. Turning to my right once
again, it appears in the dusty, white view of the flashlight. I’m not holding anything. The
flashlight is gone. My covers are black and polka-dotted. Covers, what covers? The wardrobe is
gone. But, it was just there? The bed is gone. The floor is cold. I feel no floor, just cold. And
black. The room is empty. My mothers favorite blouse. My floor. She used to wear it with silver
rings. My twin bed with the blue covers. That was before she left me. my orange lamp. Before I
left myself. The room is gone. all black, no feel, but it’s still my room. And the light never turns
on.

–

Nia Edwards is an aspiring writer from New Jersey. Her latest work in the making is a movie script for a film called “Gypsy Kids”, which is a coming of age movie about three troubled teens finding family in each other, wishing to escape their current situations. She likes to listen to shoe gaze music while thinking of new prompts to write about. Currently, her favorite artists are she’s green, Wave to Earth, and Tyler, the Creator.