Dear Diary,

      I watch the snowflakes drifting through the air outside my window. Intricate patterns designed by an unseen hand to bring us wonder, joy, and in some cases death. Sighing, I pace around the room I’m in. Here I am, forsaken; much like an infant’s forgotten toy. Does no one remember who I am? Do they care? I try the doorknob for what is the seventh time this minute. No success.

I do hope someone lets me out; I’m hungry.

~

Dear Diary,

      I have spent much time looking at three dusty paintings in this room of mine. The first on the wall to the right of my bed depicts a beautiful red gem lying next to a sleeping white cat. Such perfect details; it astonishes me! I wonder if the artist had been trapped in here as I had. It would explain the red and white blots of paint on the floor.
      On the wall opposing the headboard of my bed is another painting. It is in the same style of the last and presents a cardinal trapped in a silver cage. Such hopelessness radiates from its eyes! I would have never thought to associate such a raw human emotion to such a common bird.
      Finally on the wall to the left of the bed is a covered painting. Dust has accumulated upon the brown sheets covering it. I have not touched this one. I fear it. You may think me mad, but at night I could swear the sheets covering it flutter! Almost as if a draft of cold air blows from under. I have been locked in here a tad bit long I fear; perhaps someone will come for me.

~

Dear Diary,

      I don’t remember how I got here. I can’t even remember what I look like. Has it really been that long? Why haven’t I starved to death yet?
      It is this room; I realize. It sustains me. I don’t know how or why, but it is so. I keep staring at the first painting. The cat’s silky white hair seems so lifelike! I walk over to it, running my hands on the painting. I feel the ridges created from dried paint under my fingertips until I reach the gem. The gem is real! With shock I pick it up from the painting, staring at it wide-eyed. Holding the warming jewel in my hand I look back at the painting. The cat is sitting up. Awake. Looking at me with ruby-red eyes.

I faint.

~

Dear Diary,
      I wake with the red gem clenched in my right hand. It is… Invigorating… I can feel power coursing through my very blood. And how I enjoy it. I realize now that I had been blind all my life. I looked around seeing things I had never seen before. There is a darkness lurking behind the covered painting.  

I fear it.

~

Dear Diary,

      The cat in the painting has not moved since I acquired the gem, yet it looks forward ever blankly with those blood-red eyes. If only it would return back to its slumber! It frightens me so! I contemplate covering it with the dusty brown sheets from the third painting. No… I will not near those sheets. There is a force behind them I cannot explain.
      I look at the painting of the cardinal in an attempt to block out the piercing stare of the cat. Such sadness… If only I could free it. I run my hands over the painted cage door and freeze. I can feel cool metal under my fingers. Tentatively I open the cage door. I nearly fall backwards as the bird flies out the painting! What am I to do?
      I look in horror to the cat smoothly walking out of its painting as well. Those demon’s eyes follow the bird; then in a quick motion, there is a blur of white with those vicious, pearl white fangs piercing the bright red feathers. Red paint pours from a gaping wound in the cardinal’s breast as it closes it eyes.
      I back away slowly, the demon cat casting its gaze upon me. Those clawed paws slowly advance as I step back at the same time. With horror, I find myself with my back pressed against the brown sheets. Suddenly, the covered painting gives. I lose my balance; and fall right through.
      I close my eyes as I plunge through darkness… and wake up.

~

Dear Diary,

      I open my eyes and find myself half buried in the snow. I no longer feel the cold. No one is coming for me. I know this now. I have no friends. No family. No one to notice my absence and send out a search party in the middle of this Russian winter. I look to my left and see the snow leopard that created the long, frozen gash that is revealing my ribs to the world. A cardinal sings on a branch above me.
      I laugh bitterly as my thoughts become harder to form. All I can think about is how beautiful the snowflakes look drifting through the air.