Everything was white

Everything was white. He wasn't sure where he was or how he got there, just that everything as far as he could see was white. His heartbeat and the hum of fluorescent lighting were all that he could hear. Fluorescent lighting, or just white maybe. He blinked. The light flickered and for a moment so brief it may have just been his imagination, everything was black. Then there was white.

He stepped forward, hesitating before moving any further. He searched the area around him, trying in vain to see something other than the vast emptiness that surrounded him. With each careful step he looked, listened, wondered.

Where was he? Why was he here? Was he alone? A blanket of uneasiness wrapped around him, keeping him uncomfortable but protected from worry and fear. He walked forward.

Right foot.

Heartbeat.

Left foot.

Humming.

Right foot.

Guitar?

He paused and willed his heart to stay silent for just a moment so he could hear the sound again. He waited.

Humming.

Heartbeat.

Guitar.

A soft melody floated through the white. He followed the sound. He blinked. The light flickered and for a moment so brief it may have just been his imagination, everything was black. Then there was white.

There was a waterfall spilling out the clearest blue water into a small pond. Pale grey, flat rocks surrounded the water, containing it. Perched atop the rock barrier was a young girl in a white sundress, completely absorbed in the melody that she softly strummed on the guitar. The instrument appeared to be nearly the same size as the little girl who played it.

There was no sky and no walls, only white.

He sat on the rock beside the little girl. He listened, and waited.

When she finished playing, she slid off the rock and turned to face him. She studied his face. He blinked. The light flickered and for a moment so brief it may have just been his imagination, everything was black. Then there was white.

"Now what?" he asked finally.

"You shouldn't be here," she replied.

"I'm not even sure where 'here' is."

The child smiled and placed the guitar at his feet. She took a step back and pointed where the instrument lay.

"This is here."

He stared hard at his feet, the guitar, her pointed finger.

"This is here," he echoed.

She nodded.

"Where am I?" he asked, perplexed.

"You are here," she said, and repeated, "This is here."

"Where are the others?"

"They are there. You are here."

"And this is here," he noted.

Again she nodded, her smile widening.

The light flickered and for a moment so brief it may have just been his imagination, everything was black. Then there was white.

Again the child pointed at the guitar.

"Play."

Slowly he leaned forward and carefully wrapped his hand around the guitar's neck. He gently lifted it, resting it on his knee as he hugged it close to his body. His fingers lightly traced the outline of its curves. Finally he placed his fingers atop the strings and strummed out the same melody that the girl had played before him. He played softly at first, then louder and stronger. The tune he strummed grew from the tips of his fingers, taking on a life of its own. The sound of his heart kept time, beating along for only him to hear. He played for him, here. He played for them, there. Blisters formed on his fingertips, but still he played for there.

He blinked. The light flickered and for a moment so brief it may have just been his imagination, everything was black. Then there was white.

Then there was silence.

He continued to strum, but no sound was made. He stopped playing and looked up from the guitar to see only white in front of him. The child was gone. He turned around but there was no sign of the little girl in his panoramic view. He strummed a chord, but still there was no sound. The waterfall behind him had ceased. Again he strummed a chord, and still there was nothing. He looked down at the guitar, but there was nothing in his hands. There was only white.

"Hello?" he called out. He stood and listened for any sound, but all he heard was the sound of all the white that surrounded him. He turned around. The rock ledge on which he'd sat was nowhere to be seen, absorbed by all the white.

The light flickered and for a moment so brief it may have just been his imagination, everything was black. Then there was white. He searched around him for anything, anyone, any sound, but there was nothing. There was no humming. He could no longer hear his heart beating. There was only white.

He sunk down onto his knees, then slowly lay himself down. This is here, he thought, this is here. He closed his eyes.

There was only white.