The Large White Room


My friend Heidi sent me a link to a writing assignment where you describe the feeling of being trapped in 300 words or less. This is my attempt at the assignment.

He forgets the chain of events that led him here, but it doesn’t matter now. He is inside a large white room, and looking up, he can only see fluorescent lights hanging above, no ceiling that he can see. The floors are industrial grey berber carpet, the walls whitewashed cinderblock, and a faint smell of formaldehyde hangs in the room. His face is gaunt, his figure crumbling from hunger as his white business shirt and slacks hang onto his frame.

He continues to walk down the large white room, and hearing no echo from his steps. With his hand on the wall, he can just see the wall on his other side, but can’t see the walls in front of him or behind him. He has walked for days, and he isn’t sure if this is a room or a tunnel, as he has walked for dozens of miles. His water bottle had run out just the day prior, and sleep has came hard, as the fluorescent lights keep him awake.

He occasionally screams out profanities and cries for help, but he is not sure if anyone has heard them. With each step, a little bit of hope inside of him dies. He’s seen no doorways, no carpet stains, nothing. No evidence that anyone has ever been in here.

He is in disbelief. He wonders if he has entered heaven, or even hell, but the room is just too plain. The berber carpet is white noise to his eyes, the fluorescent lights too bright too look up at. He can only stare forward, looking at some white beyond. He wonders if it is the third wall.

His mouth is dry, and he can go no further. He sits down, falls to a slumped mass, as his eyes droop shut.


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