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an unforgettable place.

He slowly but steadily makes his way up the grand marble staircase, the intricately designed marble under his foot cold to the touch. Every grand step saps more of his already depleted energy, but resilience and excitement fuel him onwards. Reaching the top he heaves himself onto flat ground, turns the corner, and freezes.


There, in all its magnificent glory, stands a polished, bold oak door, the handle on it gleaming - not unlike his eyes. Running as fast as his tiny pudgy legs allow him to, he reaches the door and halts, cocking his head upwards and staring in awe.


‘This is my kingdom come.’

Imagine Dragons, Demons 4:3


The imposing doorframe looms over him and in this moment he realises his insignificance - a mere speck compared to his surroundings. Reaching up, his fingers brush against the handle and he strains the reach it; he hopes he doesn’t need to call upon the ‘giant’ to help him.


Finally the handle starts its slow descent and he pushes inwards into the door. The anticipation bubbling inside him reaches its boiling point as the door swings open, revealing the room for the first time.


I see no use in describing the interior of the room as the memories of it have been exponentially exaggerated by him.


He speaks and remembers of a room panelled with the finest wood, hand-crafted to perfection. Posters of ‘Pokémon’ hung on his immaculately white walls like royal banners, while a golden light was cast upon the entirety of the room from open windows. Tucked into one corner is his work table, the parchment and ink laid out, above it countless books filed neatly row upon row and below it a chair adorned with the leather hide of a slain beast. Not any wild, mangy, stray brute - a magnificent creature, befitting to produce an equally magnificent hide.


Turning around, he reports of a lavish armoire, and within it his daily change of attire. Turning again, a sumptuous bed lies in his sights. A soft and plump bed, fourfold his size, the linen, bedsheets and pillow a pristine shade of white. Heavenly white. The satin headrest gently envelops his head as he rests on the bed for the first time, the bedside table forgotten; negligible beside the bed albeit being a thing of beauty.


He has to resist the temptation to leave the room and lock it, to preserve its beauty, but he knows it’s impossible.


‘I wanna save that light; I can’t escape this now’

Imagine Dragons, Demons 14:2-3


. . .


Of course, he tries to maintain the rooms perfection, but as the years pass his walls yellow; his chair rips; his door creaks; his books fray and his furniture breaks.


Looking back, I have no idea what he saw in this room, for I only see a plain, tarnished, worn room - not unlike a million others found in the world.


Funny.


. . .


His childish innocence perceived this as ‘Heaven on Earth’.


. . .


I just see a bedroom.

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