This is a story about a little girl, all alone, in a big room full of toys and color, but is still empty.

I sit here, in a cold plastic chair, near the wall of a big open room. The walls are colorful and seem to be trying to give off a cheerful vibe, but I feel more alone than ever. The only noise I can hear is the ticking of the clock, so high up on the wall I can barely read it. Next to me, standing against the wall, is a small bookshelf. It is full of children's books, except for the one I took out. It's a nursery rhyme book. I try to read the book, but I can't help but look up every few minutes to look at every corner of the room, the windows, and the doors. The room is empty, but I feel something has to be watching me. It's just to quiet for something not to be.

I am alone in this room. No matter how bright the walls are, how cheerful the stories in the books are, or how many toys are laid out near the next wall over, it will never make me happy. Not when it feels this empty. Not when it is this silent. I keep thinking something is watching. Something is listening.

I think about my dream, or rather nightmare, from last night. I dreamed a rather strange version of Snow White. I was me, not some princess, and I came across a small little house in the middle of the woods. When I opened the door, I was frightened by the seven dwarfs. They weren't normal. They were zombies. Dopey scared me the most, coming right up to me. He looked gross. After seeing them in that small dusty house though, I woke up.

Now, in this big empty room, I am worried they are watching me. I think they might harm me. Are they looking through the windows? Are they waiting behind the door? I really think they are. I think back again to my dream. They never tried to hurt me. They only looked mean. What if they were just as scared as I was? I look up from my book, glancing at the windows, doors, and dark corners of the room. Taking a deep breath in, I start to sing. Maybe they will be my friend if I sing for them, instead of wanting to hurt me. Music always made me happy.

My voice sounds odd after it being silent for so long, but I keep singing nonsense for the seven dwarfs. I don't want them to hurt me.

It's so lonely here. It's just so empty. I sit near this wall, by this bookshelf, because these objects make me feel a little less alone. They make me feel safe. I feel like I'm not just out in the open. If I sit here long enough, in this cold plastic chair, against this colorful wall, near this small bookshelf, will I eventually become part of the background though? Will I become just another object? Something so normal that I am not the center piece of this picture, but instead the background for just an empty room?

I am still singing, but for a moment, just a short moment, I think I hear someone singing with me.

But that can't be...

I'm all alone, sitting in a big empty room.