FROM MY PLACE

Dust hanging lazily in the air serves only to diffuse the meager light from a single bulb fixed at the peak of the ceiling. Aimee doesn’t notice. The light has always been there, always on, always dimly illuminating the trunks and boxes scattered around the room.

Dim light is as much of her universe as the air that she breathes. It is not something one would usually think about. So are the occasional visits to her quarters by the man. It is simply how the world works.

The man seems to be like a spirit from another world. When he opens the portal, bright light shows behind him. Fresh air follows, not like the stale and persistent smell of her space. But he is solid and strong, not an other-world spirit.

When the man holds her, when he has his way with her, he is strong and sometimes brutal. Sometimes she hurts for a long time afterward. But he always brings food and water, and that is what matters. It is what she looks forward to once a day.

What a curious thought, “a day.” She does not actually have such a word for it. She has only a vague concept of time, or that it could be measured in some way. The only other light that exists in her world is a peculiar luminescence from some slats in one of the walls. The light is not always there. But its appearance is predictable. It sometimes disappears for a long time, then it returns for a long time, in an endless cycle.

One day, while searching for the source of a scratching sound, it occurs to her to explore the bright thing. Its slats are dark with dirt, and there is an even dirtier mesh on the opposite side, but not enough to block the light entirely.

She is delighted. The light is brighter than the bulb, a different type of light. She grows more curious, and decides to clean the mesh to see if it will let in even more light . . . which it does.

She scrounges for some sort of tool to aid her project. She knows the contents of every box and trunk in her confined world. In a dusty box she finds a tiny, right-angled brush that seems perfect for getting between the slats. She works vigorously, and is pleased with the great expansion of light and fresh air that her work has allowed. She works so vigorously, in fact, that one of the rotted wood slats falls apart to reveal an even bigger opening to the other side. A pleasant breeze blows in. Soon the screen itself begins to tear. She marvels at what she sees.

Outside is not only light brighter than she has ever imagined, but she discovers colors of intensity beyond imagination. Greens of many shades ripple and dapple the light, like music to her eyes . . . if only she could know what music is. The slightest scent of flowers delights her nose for the first time. She is enchanted.

Aimee has little time to indulge in her discovery. The ominous clump-clump-clump sound that always precedes the man’s appearance startles her. Sensing that he might be angry about her discovery, she moves a box in front of her new window, causing the room to darken suddenly.

The man seems not to notice. He watches her eat, then runs his fingers over her entire body. He seems to take pleasure in it, but she feels none.

When her captor leaves, she returns to her window. Air flows gently in, cool and fresh. She lets the oxygen sink deeply into her lungs, as marvelous as one’s first taste of ice cream. She is enchanted by the fluttering of leaves just outside her new portal, unaware of what they are. A day goes by before she notices other things in the tree – animals. She can’t imagine what they are. She has seen rats, of course, but these are not rats. She is astonished when some of them flutter and fly away. It is her first perception of angels.

She wishes he could see them more closely when an ingenious thought occurs. One day, while rummaging through an old trunk, she had found something odd. Two tubes fastened together, with glass at both ends of each tube. When she looks through the tubes, she can see things magnified in a magical way. She reasons that they would work grandly in this newly-discovered light. Lying on her stomach, she puts the field glasses to her eyes. A squirrel that had seemed like a tiny insect is suddenly huge before her. She squeals with delight.

Aimee spends many days at her new portal, discovering weather and light and a million other things in the world beyond her attic.

One day, a thought creeps into her mind, perhaps an evil thought. What if she could squeeze through that tiny portal? She ponders the idea and studies the portal for several days. She cannot quite see all the way to the base of the tree, but she can see that there is a strong limb almost within reach.

She reaches out and confirms that, yes, she can touch it, and yes, it seems very strong.

The following day she pulls herself part way out, only to realize that she is twenty feet above the ground. That frightens her, so she abandons such an idea for another two weeks, until one day the man hurts her – really hurts her, leaving her insides aching.

Pulling herself onto the limb is easier than she has imagined, but the distance to the ground terrifies her. The tree bark is rough and unforgiving, but she eyes a branch-to-branch path that could let her drop to the ground.

Her bare feet are surprised at the feel of dirt and grass beneath her feet; it feels somewhat prickly, yet somehow pleasant. Around her are flowers of amazing colors, tender and light to the touch. Some smell bad, but others are sensational. She giggles and dances around in circles, then begins to run. She has never run before, and now air pumps into her lungs with joy.

The following day, when the man appears with her bowl, he discovers that the naked little girl has vanished. He is alone in the attic. He mutters under his breath, “Please don’t tell anyone.” But now, he is the one who is frightened.