Allegories…

I haven’t left my room in days. Behind the closed door, I can sense Mom’s frustration as I ignore her repeated calls. “Breakfast is ready!” she yells from the kitchen. The sweet smell of steamy pancakes covered in maple syrup makes my stomach twist. It reminds me of how she used to make them…

Every memory of her, of us, is like a stab to the chest. Chains tighten around my heart, ready to squeeze it to death. I turn to face the nightstand clock. The bloody red digits scream 9:09 a.m. Tic, tac, tic, tac, tic… The seconds pass. I still feel weak, but in this mess, I’m grateful. “Heartbreak can’t kill me. I’m alive.” I whisper into my pillow.

As I stand up, I feel myself growing taller and taller. I try to slide into my slippers and look down. My feet are expanding, toes poking through the front. When I turn my head toward the full-length mirror hung on the back of my door, I see only a torso, massive as a full-grown chestnut tree, quads wider than the doorframe itself. I gasp and stare at the monster in front of me. By the time I realize what I’ve become, my head is inches from the ceiling. My scream turns into a growl. Where do I go? What do I do?

I try to escape my room, leaving behind a giant cement hole where the doorframe used to be. My elephant-like footsteps shake the ground, and before I know it, the floor collapses right where the kitchen was. “MOM! MOM!”

All I get back is heavy silence. At that moment, I would have rather been killed…