Lavinia opened her eyes cautiously. The only sound she heard was her own faint breathing. She was lying on a white floor, which felt softer than she expected and had a comforting texture. The four walls surrounding her were also white, with no pictures or even a door in sight; completely bare.
She sat up, uncertain of her surroundings and yet, despite being an anxious person, she felt relatively relaxed. She rubbed her eyes, wondering if the bareness of the room was a result of her bleary eyes. However, even after rubbing her eyes awake, she still could not see anything other than the four blank walls.
“What an odd place to end up in on a Sunday morning.” Lavinia mused to herself. She then felt a quick pain when she remembered her family would probably be getting ready for church without her. She thought of her husband, Grant, and how he would be struggling to get their daughter ready in her Sunday best without the help of his wife.
Lavinia noticed something out of the corner of her eye. A thin crack in the wall. Upon further inspection it seemed to be a panel of some kind, resembling that of a cabinet door. It was very thin, and her freshly cut nails did nothing to help her pry open the door. However, once she got a grip on the door it easily was able to swing it open. Inside was a shallow crevice, also white, housing a white spinning wheel. Lavinia’s eyes lit up. She was a spinster- had been for several years now, and enjoyed spinning a lot. She felt free when she spun, transfixed by the colorful wool being swept up in the wheel. She had other interests too, like attending to her sweet daughter, or dancing. Sometimes she imagined that instead the wheel spinning, she was the one spinning, on a stage somewhere with all the lights following her graceful movements and her husband and daughter somewhere in the crowd cheering her on. But that was beside the point. She had made her choice to leave. In this strange room, she would work on one of her passions.
She pulled the spinning wheel to the center of the room. It almost blended into the walls, it was such a pure white. Her eyes could only differentiate the frame from the surroundings from the thin shadows that were cast by the bright overhead light. She looked back at the crevice for some wool but the hole was gone. She turned her head and caught a glimpse of another shadow on the wall. Excited now, she dashed over and pried open the door. Inside was a basket of colorful wool and a note.
“Please make one ball of yarn at your leisure.”
Lavinia smiled, this was something she could do. She set to work at once. She was about a third of the way done with the spinning when she noticed another crack in the wall appear. She paused and went to the crack. A warm roll with some meat and gravy was served on a plate. It reminded her of the meals she used to make for her family.
“What else could I possibly need? I have my spinning wheel and warm food. My life is complete.” Then Lavinia made a slightly pinched face. She remembered the love from her family but pushed it aside. She needed a break from the world she knew to pursue something for herself.
The light overhead began to dim and Lavinia felt that she could rest her head again. She would finish the yarn tomorrow morning.
The next day Lavinia awoke to another note resting beside her.
“Please make another ball of yarn at your leisure.”
Lavinia was confused- she was still trying to finish the other one, but she simply shrugged, she knew the first ball would be done in no time and then she could start on the second. When she started to feel hungry, Lavinia looked for the crack in the wall and it appeared. The same thing as the day before but just as warm and delicious as ever. She happily ate the food and went on with her spinning. Watching the wheel spin, and then imaging herself dancing and her daughter dancing too. One of her favorite memories was when her daughter was a toddler, she would flail her arms about when she heard the music. It was adorable and Lavina laughed every time. Her eyes grew heavy and the light started to dim. Lavinia went to sleep and awoke to a new set of instructions.
“Make another ball of yarn.”
Lavinia felt a slight pressure. The note did not seem as friendly as the past notes, and was written in more blocky, foreign handwriting. But seeing as she had nothing else to do she went along with the task. Over the next few days Lavinia worked on the spinning. She was fed, and got instructions for more yarn. Sometimes she would try to take a break but a pounding would come from outside the room, loud and forceful, filling the room with echoes and vibrations until her hands returned to spinning.
Lavina was entertained by the yarn but she missed her family and dancing. She was stuck in a chair all day at this spinning wheel with nothing but her own thoughts, and even those seemed to be scarce. Sometimes the white walls seemed to bleed into her own mind. She didn’t know how to get back to the color of her life. All the color and thoughts were stuck in the yarn.
The days- if one could call them days- seemed to grow longer, the food less frequent, and the notes more demanding.
“Make 2 balls of yarn.”
“Make 3 balls of yarn.”
“Faster.”
“More.”
Lavinia’s fingers ached. She wasn’t sure she even liked spinning anymore. The trance of the wheel brought thoughts of her family and even her friends. She missed dancing, it was freeing and did not require her fingers. Lately, she wasn’t sure if she remembered how to use her feet for anything other than pedaling the spinning wheel.
The yarn began to fill the room. She almost had no place to sleep, the floor was covered in the balls. She loved the spinning wheel. It was her only companion in the room but she began to resent the notes. They were cold and unfriendly. Trapping her in work.
“Trapped.” Lavinia said aloud one day in the midst of spinning.
She was almost surprised by her own voice, she had been stuck inside her head for so long.
“Trapped!” Lavinia said in shock again.
She whipped her head about looking for a way out.
“I want out. Let me out!”
Her fingers were shaking, both from exhaustion and anger. She stopped spinning and the pounding started. The vibrations used to scare her but that day they filled her with power.
She screamed at the walls, “Enough!”
The pounding stopped. A slit appeared in the wall. She opened it and inside was a white door knob. She looked around and a small hole had appeared on the opposite wall. She slid the knob in and it clicked. She easily turned it and a door that she had not noticed before opened.
There was a golden yellow light streaming in from outside the room. It was a welcoming and warm. Lavinia smiled at what she recalled to be sunshine.
Lavinia almost took a step out of the door but she hesitated. She looked at all the work she had done, and the faithful spinning wheel that she had grown to love despite it’s demands.
“On second thought-” Lavina trailed off.
She left the door to return to the spinning wheel.
“I’ll just take this with me, it’s a good spinning wheel and we have spent a lot of time together. I don’t think I could leave it.”
But when Lavinia tried to lift the wheel, it remained firmly attached to the floor.
“I moved this before-” Lavinia said, confused and frightened.
But her memory was mostly white like the room and she began to wonder when even started spinning. She could only remember the room, the yarn, the wheel.
“Why am I trying to leave?” Lavina could not remember anything before the room.
She looked at the door and the light did not seem welcoming anymore. It was harsh and blinding. She was comforted by the cool white of the lamp light in the room. She sat down at the spinning wheel again and started spinning out of habit but her fingers started to bleed.
“Ow!” Lavinia dropped the yarn but it was already ruined, matted and stained.
The sharpness of the pain cut through the fog of her memory and she flashed back to her husband Grant, dancing with her on their wedding day. She remembered her kids, spinning in circles while she twirled in the living room. The aching of her fingers subsided and she felt happy for a split second.
Then she looked down at her shaking fingers covered in blood.
“I need to leave so I can dance again.”
She looked sadly at the spinning wheel, it looked tired too.
“We will maybe meet again someday.”
Lavinia’s memories gave her a surge of strength. She remembered the music she loved to dance to and she hummed along with her memories, swaying and stepping carefully to a rhythm she used to know. She glided to the door again and this time, and paused. She looked straight ahead through the doorway, and this time, she had enough courage to step through it.