White
Marcus's mother came charging in to his in the morning. He woke up because of her voice, but he couldn’t yet comprehend what she was saying. He looked at the clock on the table, and realized he had overslept. It was already eight, no wonder she was all worked up. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he listened again to the excited babbling. This time, he could make out a part of a sentence:
“. . . so let’s have breakfast together, like we used too!”
Marcus was left completely baffled; he hadn’t eaten breakfast with his mother since he was eight. And why was she so happy? School had already started, and there she was, pulling Marcus’s arm, smiling and whistling.
“Aren’t you mad at me for oversleeping?” Marcus felt like he was trapped in an awkward dream. His mother was never up this early. She started laughing and gave Marcus a kiss on the forehead.
“They called from school; you’ve got the day off because of the snow.” Jane walked over to the window and opened the curtains. The glass was covered with it. A tiny bit of sunlight reflected in the snow; working its way through, melting the frost slowly. His room was shimmering in the abstract light from the snow-covered window, and a warm feeling crawled up inside of him. Marcus loved snow days.
He helped his mother make breakfast. Toast with bacon and scrambled eggs, with the bacon fried to a crisp, just the way he liked it. Dog was hoping for a taste, so he came down the stairs and started sniffing about in the kitchen as they were cooking. When Jane wasn’t looking, Marcus snuck a piece of bacon to him from his plate. He looked so pleased, waving his tail as he wandered off into the living room. Seeing Dog so happy gave Marcus an idea. He looked at the clock on the microwave, showing 08.20. He said to his mother that he was going to the bathroom. He hurried to his room, took out his book and a pencil and sat down on his bed to write a ticket:
1. Dog, Dalmatian.
2. Thursday, December 17th, 2009, 08.15 AM.
3. Ash Street.
4. Five minutes.
Marcus Lee
He dropped the pencil on the floor and felt gravity take hold of him. He closed his eyes and his body fell, slowly at first, but then faster toward his unmade bed. The snow-white light covering the walls of his room expanded, and when the light had faded, or when he had gotten used to it, he noticed that he was no longer in his bed, or even in his room.
He looked down, and saw a pair of white, furry paws with black spots here and there. He looked around, and everything looked different. The house, which was filled with his mother’s mistreated plants, was in a whole different color. Everything was in weird shades of red and blue and even the plants were in a vague pinkish purple. He walked from Jane’s room to the stairs, which also felt odd. He hadn’t been walking on all fours since he was a baby. He could smell the bacon on the pan downstairs, and began his descent. Shuffling head first down the stairs was scary, but he made it all the way down without losing his footing. He walked in to the kitchen, and saw his human self standing by the stove. The scent was stronger and more complex compared to when he had been standing by the pan and frying the bacon under his own nose.
Through Dogs eyes, he saw Marcus’s fingers grab a piece of the delicious bacon and stretch down toward the floor. He quickly bit hold of it and ran off to the living room. A strange feeling of self-inflicted déjà vu slowly faded away as he was chewing and tasting the bacon, enjoying every moment of it.
He reacted to a sound outside the front door. Someone was coming. He could hear them long before they reached the door, so he wasn't surprised when he heard knocking. His mother didn’t start screaming for him to open the front door, which was weird. He saw how everything turned white around him, as if snow had covered it. He blinked his eyes, and when he opened them, he landed in his bed, as Marcus again.
“Will you get the door?” Jane was busy scrambling the eggs, so Marcus ran down the stairs. He opened the dark, wooden door, and was met by the same sort of bright, white light that was glowing in through his window. The road and houses behind it were under a thick, white blanket, and right in front of him, camouflaged in the landscape, stood Lola.
