Awakening

Chapter 18

I’d never been in the house before, I was almost positive of it. The hallway that I was standing in, though tastefully decorated and clean, seemed completely unfamiliar. The light that filled the narrow space was natural. Sunlight spilled in from a window at the end of it, warmly glowing off of the dark wood floor and bathing the cream colored walls. Landscape paintings hung at intervals along the walls, giving a cozy feel. Dark red carpets were laid down the middle of the hallway bringing color to the small space. While I was still sure I had never been in this house before, there was something about it, something that tickled the back of my mind, something that I felt I should remember about it.

The murmur of voices could be heard winding their way up the small stairs next to me. Peeking over the railing I looked down the stairs. The start of a living room could be seen. The back of a comfortable tan couch faced the stairs, along with a polished inn table. The front door of the house stood closed, more sunlight spilling in through the glass panes in it.

I could still hear the voices of what sounded to be a man and a woman having a normal conversation downstairs. Something about those voices sounded familiar as well. They called to my memory, they begged to be recognized but I couldn’t seem to grasp them. I was about to walk down the stairs, to go and investigate the voices when another sound reached my ears.

It was quiet, but persistent. Turning my head I looked towards the end of the hall. The sound of soft cooing could be heard. Tilting my head I listened to the sound. It continued in an incomprehensible stream. Turning away from the stairs, leaving the voices behind me, I began to slowly make my way down the hallway.

I passed a few different doors, a few of them open to reveal clean, discerningly decorated bedrooms. Though a part of me wanted to stop and explore I couldn’t bring myself away from walking towards the soft noises coming from the last bedroom at the end of the hall. The plush rugs underneath my feet muffled the sounds of my shoes as I continued towards it.

As I neared the door I could feel my heart beating faster, the blood pounding in my ears, my breath hitching. I didn’t know why, but I felt as if right inside that door I was going to find something monumentally important. The soft sounds continued to flow from the open doorway. Taking a deep breath I stepped around and inside the room.

I was in a nursery. The walls were painted a dark pink. A comfortable looking rocking chair sat in the far corner. A polished white dresser sat beside it, a few baby’s toys arranged neatly on top. A changing table sat on the far side of the room, piled with diapers and ointment. A pink toy chest sat beside it. The front of it was painted with purple butterflies. The room was bathed in golden sunlight from the open window that sat beside the rocking chair, the white curtains billowing in the warm breeze.

Though the nursery was nice my attention was drawn in front of me. A tall wooden crib took precedence in the room. It was painted white like the other furnishings. A mobile of flowers and butterflies hung above it, softly turning in the breeze. The soft sighs and coos of the baby that lay inside of it the only sound to be heard. But though I was curious as to who the baby inside was I found my attention focused on the person standing beside the crib.

It was a man. He stood tall, the side of the crib only coming up to his waist. He wore dark jeans and a black t-shirt. Even from this view I could tell he was strong, his shoulders were broad. His muscled arms tapered down into large hands which rested on the side of the crib. His head, which was covered in thick, dark hair, was bent as he gazed down into the crib at the tiny, talkative infant. He stood completely still; it almost seemed he was a statue, just another part of the furnishings in the room. But his large and commanding presence seemed to fill the entire nursery.