[Insert Name Here]

“This way,” the young girl grinned. She motioned for you to follow. You stood there, hesitant, looking at the particular girl. She rolled her eyes, jokingly, and pulled you toward her. 

“Where are we going?” you question. The youthful lady chuckled and conducted you past a narrow hall. You find yourself in front of a tremendously massive door. 

“It’s made of the strongest metal,” the girl commented. The smell of iron reached your nose, burning like fire. The girl was ready to push the door open but paused. She turned to you, her brown hair hiding part of her face, “You must promise never to repeat what you see inside that room.” You look to the door, and back to the brown-eyed girl, slightly concerned. She pushed open the door, the grunt of the rusted metal making you both cringe away. “This door has never been opened,” she states. 

You pull back as a bright light shines in. This time, you take the front, edging past the door. “What is this place?” you inquire. You look back, but the girl has left. You find yourself all alone in this strange room. The four walls are made of a white purer than that of sugar. Yet, they glow with such a vibrancy– it was surreal. 

“Walk,” a voice commands. The girl’s voice, you quickly realize. You are reluctant but follow the order. The shimmering room transformed into a field of wildflowers. The buds bloomed as you walked through them. Your befuddled expression soon turned to amazement. 

The walls had disappeared into nothingness. You continue to walk through the flowers, not knowing that this is where the young girl spent most of her time. She draws and writes here. She loves to live here, but she always has to go back. Pollen filled the room, and soon after came bees. Buzzing freely. You walk in the middle of the meadow, it smelt of lavender, roses, and peace. You stop short, and find the young girl again, smiling at you. She leads you past the meadow, and into a library. The intricate design on the wall almost whizzed alive. The place smelt of ancient, worn books. If only you knew that she had never shown anyone this place. The books seemed to be alive as if real people were in them. The characters flew out of the pages, in one corner of the room, Mr. Darcy was spinning Elizabeth around. In another corner, Jay Gadsby was having a party, singing, and dancing. To your right, Scout and Jem Finch were touching Boo Radley’s fence. Ophelia waved hello from behind a shelf. 

“This is insane!” you shouted. The imaginary characters turned to glimpse at you. The library faded to a stage. A grand, sleek piano was standing there. The young girl set foot toward it. She played a magnificent lullaby, and the world stopped. 

She looked at the clock on the wall. “We have to hurry,” she mumbled. She brought you to another room. Papers littered the floor. 

“Must you go so soon?” a character jumped out. If only you knew that this imaginary character was one of the first that the girl created. 

“Yes, Sage,” the girl said. Sage smiled back and disappeared. Characters flew around us, introducing themselves. Archer Robin, Melanie Evans, and Carter O’Reilly. More and more and more. 

“We must go!” she urged. Her eyes twinkled as you ran back toward the metal door. You passed cinema rooms and passed travelers, drawings, fashion, skiing, museums, dark photography rooms, and poetry. You both rushed to the door and lept to the other side. The door shut behind you, with a loud clang. 

“That was-” she cut you off. 

“That was glorious!” she laughed. You sat there, pondering on the visualization of the girl’s identity. 

You stare for a bit longer but avert your gaze, not wanting to be rude. When you look back, the young girl with hair the color of tree bark, and irises the color of coca, had evaporated. 

You close your eyes, and open them again, back inside your office.