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wannawritesometimes t1_iw5havs wrote

<2/3>

Amelia reached toward the button panel but paused with her arm half-extended. The red dot in the center of the "16" button was already lit. She tilted her head to the side and squinted at the red light but soon decided she was too worn out to put any more thought into it. Slumping back against the wall and closing her eyes, Amelia waited.

And waited.

... and waited...

The woman looked up toward the digital display. The numbers kept changing but not in any logical order: 4-12-8-23-7-14. As her heartbeat thumped faster, she scoured the buttons, hoping for a "call for help" or "stop elevator." There were no such options though, only more numbers. Amelia jammed her hand into her purse. Just as she grabbed hold of her cellphone, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Amelia rushed into the hallway and spun around as the doors closed again. Relief – and a bit of embarrassment – swept over her and she began to laugh. The mirth quickly died away as she realized the hall was filled with the sounds of cheap elevator music. Then, right in front of her eyes, the elevator doors disappeared.

Stumbling backwards, the frightened woman turned her head to the left. For the first time, she realized that things weren't where they should be. The elevator – which should sit at the end of a short, straight hallway – had actually let her out in the center of a long, twisting corridor. She turns back toward the now-blank wall where she had arrived. Much like the elevator itself, all memory of her journey up here vanished.

A footstep sounded somewhere off to her right. Shivering, Amelia pivoted toward the noise.

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London-Roma-1980 t1_iwds4p3 wrote

<3/3>

"Bonjour, Amelie", she heard. A man approached in a well-tailored suit and offered his hand. "I hope your stay among the living was satsifactory."

Amelia -- Amelie -- felt a rush of new memories flow through her. She could speak and understand him in French, much better than English. "Monsieur," she said, carrying on in her now-native tongue. "It was an adventure. Is it over?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle," he replied. "It is time for you to come back to your home. You know the way."

Amelie followed the man through a set of large doors at one end of the corridor. She stepped into a beautiful museum, looking around and taking in surroundings at once ornate and familiar. Her instinct led her to a giant painting -- a Manet -- within one section. It was as the books had it, minus one important detail, one central figure. Her.

Amelie looked at the man with her. "What do I do now?"

"Step in," he told her with a sweeping gesture. The painting was big enough for her to walk to. She stepped forward to a large canvas and placed her hand to it.

&#x200B;

Amelie found herself in a quiet opening. A lady was bathing in a river in the distance. But before her were two men, discussing the activities of the day. "Amelie, mon ami," one said to her. "Join us!"

Amelie walked forward, now clad in a beautiful blue dress. She sat with her friends as memories of their lives together rushed into her mind. "We missed you, Amelie," said one -- she knew to be Gustave. "Where were you?"

"I'll tell you everything," she said, finally home where she belonged. "But something doesn't feel right." She looked down at herself and began to discard her dress. "I must tell you of my adventures in America."

[WC: 300]

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wannawritesometimes t1_iwdunro wrote

Ooh, that went a much different direction than I ever would have thought of. Good job! :-)

Is there a specific painting you had in mind when writing this? I'm not too familiar with Manet's work.

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