Paintings

I'm in a hall, the walls painted an intense shade of maroon, the floors made up of white glossy tiles. I look around at the walls. They are outlined with paintings. Paintings among paintings, and all bordered in the exact same golden frame. Each painting shows a person, some young, some middle-aged, and some, very old. The painting directly beside me shows a young girl, about seven years old, with golden braided hair and dark gray eyes. She seems to stare at me intently, with a dark gaze far older than matches her age. I've never met her before, but she looks familiar all the same.

I look to the painting beside me. A man in an army uniform. I analyze the picture carefully, the scruffy black hair upon his head, the set jaw, yet gentle eyes. Yes, yes, I've definitely seen that man before. But where? The answer gradually makes its way into my memory. A book. That man was a character somewhere in some book I'd read ages ago.

I continue to make my way through the hall, silently, curiously. I soon begin to realize that all these paintings, all these people, are people I've seen before, or people I've thought about, or read about, or even made up in my mind. All these people, I've seen somewhere in my life, whether I've had a close relationship with them, or whether they were beggars on the street who I'd given loose change to. None of them are smiling or have any emotions. They all just look at me intently, as if waiting for me to do something.

I look ahead of me, only to see that the hall goes on for a very long time. It doesn't seem to end, but I continue to walk. There is nothing else to do. I marvel at all the paintings. Most, I remember. Many, I do not. Suddenly, I feel a strange urge to see a painting, a specific painting. I can not remember who I want to see, but my heart yearns to see the face. My pace quickens as I hastily search for the painting. I look at each face, each senseless gaze, only to be let down time and time again.

As I walk further and further into the hall, I finally see an end. It seems to be so far away, but the end is there, and squinting my eyes carefully, I see a painting at the very end of the hall, and my heart leaps with joy. I can't see the face or the color or any of the features, but somehow I know that is the painting I have been longing to see. All energy possible in my body jumps to my feet and I begin to run; run faster than I've ever run before, and in that hall, I feel invulnerable. I can run faster than a car, an airplane, a rocket ship! Suddenly, I stop running and I begin to fly. The ceiling in the hall disappears completely and I'm flying past stars and planets and comets and moons. I'm soaring and the world is revolving around me. ME! I'm flying right past the universe!

I stop immediately, realizing with hesitation, that I've flown right past the picture itself. Desperation flooding my soul, I turn back, looking for the hall, the paintings, everything. But I'm so far away, and nothing is where it used to be. I'm so far away. I can't fly anymore. I'm falling, falling into nothingness.