The Looked Window

It was night, and Dave Winston was in his bedroom, an opulent room inspired by the French Baroque. The large and luxurious four-poster bed was red with gold curtains and there were a comfortable padded couch in the same style, with red upholstered and the wood lined by gold, that stayed in front of the fireplace. Dave was there too, in front of the fireplace, however not on the couch, but in a wheelchair. He left and rode until the window, a vertical and white glass window, long, large and nearby the ground enough to a person pass through it and get outside (or inside), with white and translucent curtains, whose softness contrasted with the rest of the room. Looking through the window, he exclaimed:

“Ah! What a beautiful landscape! The green leaves on the trees rustling by the howling and freezing wind, lighted by the pale shine of the silver full moon. Dark shadows dancing on the grass and fireflies making their acrobatics in the air. Ah, that’s wonderful! Look at those hills on the horizon! The inclines begin soft, disguised. You neither realize you’re not walking in a plane terrain anymore. And so, suddenly, they become vertical, almost a straight angle, steep, hard to climb. At night, the hills look like huge and rude shadows watching the Earth, but in the morning, as the Sun casts powerful luminous rays on the ground, they appear verdant, healthy and good. And what can I speak of the river? So crystalline! From here I can’t see them, but I imagine the fishes swimming in those waters, so much fresh, cold and tasty. They may be happy, indeed, as well as the trees that drink from the river by their roots like hungry babies sucking milk from the breasts of their moms. Oh, I can hear it! I can hear the sweet sound of the river running through the woods and giving life to it. And the birds and the frogs and toads and the cicadas, all they join to it, singing in natural harmony. It’s all so good, so pleasant, so perfect!”

 The old man was still speaking when an old woman, a decade younger than him though, dressed like a maid, got into the room, pushing a movable dining cart table, covered by white towels. On the top of the table, there was a plate covered by a silver cloche. A fine smell filled the air.

“Are you chattering again, Mr. Winston?” She asked.

“Oh, Mrs. Smith, don’t you think we have an incredible view here?”

“Yes, yes, sir…” She said disinterested, like if she had listened to that many other times before. “Here it is.” She served the meal, removing the cloche. The dish consisted by rice, mashed potatoes, salad and salmon with tangerine sauce.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Smith.” He took the fork and knife and the woman turned to leave the room, when he hurried to say “Don’t go yet, Mrs. Please, stay with me a little more.”

She accepted, reluctant. Her face proved her dissatisfaction, although she tried to disguise it. He started to eat, without to take his eyes off the window, while she was standing by his side.

“I love those woods, Mrs. Smith. How I wish I could leave from this house and run on that grass, swim on the river, climb up to top of these hills, take a nap below of the shadow of a tree.”

“Can’t you do it?”

“Oh, I wish, Mrs., I wish!”

“Why can’t you do it?”

Dave Winston looked at her with a perplex face, as if she had done a stupid question with an obvious answer. “What do you think? It’s impossible!”

“Why?”

“Well…” He stuttered. “To start, I’m in a wheelchair.”

“Hum…”

“And… And… The window is locked, can’t you see that?”

“Hum, I see…”

“So you have your answer.” He returned to eat nervously.

“I told you so, Mr. Winston.”

“What did you tell me, Mrs. Smith?”

“You can walk with your own legs, sir. You’re not sick, you have no deficiencies, you’re just lazy.”

“How dare you?” He hit the table.

“And the window is locked, indeed, but it’s just locked from the inside; it can’t lock from the outside. Besides, who is with the key?”

“I have no idea what you are talking, woman.”

“The key is in your hand, sir; in the left one, to be more specific.”

He opened his left hand and saw an old key in it. He looked chocked, because he shut up.

“I’ll ask you again, sir, why don’t you leave this house and run around the woods?”

“Oh, I wish!”

“Don’t come to me with ‘I wish’, you can do it! I already said that!” She got angry and took the key from the Winston’s hand. “I’ll open the window, so you will be able to leave, okay?”

“…Okay”

She fitted the key in the lock and turned it. It was heard a click from window and she opened it. A cold wind came into the room, almost putting out the fireplace. “Here you go, it’s all yours! Now you can leave and explore all your loved landscape.”

“Yes…” He said, but stayed sat in the wheelchair.

“Didn’t you want so much to leave from here? What are you waiting for?” She put the key on the table and started hitting the ground with her foot in agitation.

Winston got up from the wheelchair e approached to window with shaky steps. He lifted his right foot, almost crossing through the window, but he suddenly backed out. “It’s cold, Mrs. Smith! What the hell were you thinking opening the window like that?” He took the key and locked the window again, then threw himself on the wheelchair. “You can leave now.”

The maid organized the table while Winston looked absorbed in thoughts, and she turned to leave the room, when she heard the man’s voice again, saying “Oh, what a wonderful landscape! There is no other like that.”

“It’s truth.” She answered. Leaving the room, she whispered to herself, “It’s truth, ‘the doors of hell are locked from the inside’.”