An interview

Standing nervously in front of a black wooden door, K stares at the a bronze lion head shaped door knocker, the afternoon sun made it glittering as gold, but the hollowed eyes give the creature a soulless display. Suddenly K feels an impermeable chill zip through his spine, shivering involuntarily, he quickly gripped the ring that dangles from the lion’s mouth. (knock, knock, knock).

It has been six months since he last heard from his agent, even they seem to have finally give up on his chances to make it as a writer. There is a framed issue of his first short story publication by his bed in a small studio, but the dream for fame lasted no longer than a full moon. Not that his brilliance has dried, but fortune did not wish to overstay it’s welcome, the last two short stories he sent have drowned in some piles of to be read manuscripts.

The invitation for an interview came from nowhere, but the promise of $500 each for the two stories is not to be ignored. Though strangely himself being contacted directly, rather than through his agent, the petulance of his writing is overcome by the desperation of the rent array.

Dressed in his best possible coat, as K nervously put hand though his hair to calm himself, (click), the door opened slowly. A woman in white appeared, a pale face with a protruding hook nose, haughtily looking at K out of her narrow eyes, the almost white hair pulled tightly behind the ear, the perfect smooth skin tells a young age of the wearer. The pallid skin is as white as the vintage dress, strangely the misty eyes are soulless like the lion on the door.

“Erm, hi, I am here for the interview.” K said timidly to the woman. Without saying a word she turned before K can even finish his sentence. She slowly starts walking down into the house, without any intention to wait and close the door. The taciturn response made K hesitant, seeing the woman has no intention of turning back, K stepped in the door. With politeness his tried to close the door behind me, a little shock to his expectation, it cannot moved by a single hand. Grinding his teeth, he tried with both of his hands with determination, almost like moving a slab of huge marble. After closing the door with much hard work, K turned around sees the woman in white looked silently on from the other end of the corridor, standing by another closed door waiting.

A sense of suffocating air weighted on K, now he can hear a faint melody of piano coming from afar. The woman in white and the door are only a few meters away, then it starts to float further and further into an unreachable distance in cadence with the slow melody like a receding tide. Under the silence stare of the woman in white, K can hear his heart beating like drum that gets louder and lounder in contrast with that heaving rhythm. The tiles below seem to transformed into elongate black and white stripes, drudging his step slowly on the keys, K involuntarily moved forward towards the door.

The door slowly slides open as he gets closer and closer, without being touched by the woman in white who continues to stand there like a statue. Looking ahead through the gap, K sees a spacious bare room, nothing but two white armchairs in the middle of it. Not knowing how long has passed, K finally reached the door which is wide open now. To enquire further, K looked towards the woman in white in the eye, there is not more eyes, she is a woman anymore, but a statue with the most exquisite form, as a woman had been turned by the sight of Medusa.

Stunned with a gasp, K can hardly believe what he is seeing, slowly he tried to rise his hand to touch it with an uncontrollable shake, suddenly the diminishing music vanished in totality, a weak deep voice sounded. “Please come in.”

In silence this voice sounds as loud as thunder woke K in his shock, he hesitantly walked into the room, hardly can keep his eyes away from the marble statue. Only until the door starts to close by itself again, K reluctantly looked the armchairs that have their backs against the door, nervously walk towards the front. There he sees a crouched figure sitting languidly in the left chair, an old woman looked up, face full of wrinkles with the a mouth so collapsed, it looks like it’s eating on itself. Even though she is cover in white shawl, the scrawny hands resting on top of each other indicate she is well into last bit twilight of her life.

“Please take a seat.” The old woman’s mouth mumbled. K uncomfortably sat on the edge of the other chair, only after making a small bow with his head first.

“Thank you for your invitation, Mrs.?” Enquiring politely by K.

With a single gesture of the bony finger from the old woman, it appears to both dismiss his question and silenced him. “I have read your stories, it is impressive with daring usage of words. The burning rage of your spirt, the youth in your blood is admirable to an old lady like me. I was young once as well, now clock is ticking down its last second, nothing if left for me to do but leave a legacy for myself.” The old woman closed her eye a for a second as ruminating her past, left K awkwardly uncertain what yet to come.

“Can you write a book for me?” said the old woman.

K has never done any commissioned work, but an offer is an offer, he is rather desperately short in money.

“I will give you $20,000 to finishing the book.” Out of nowhere, the old woman hands K a signed cheque.

K’s heart jumped, he tried best to control his expression, but the uprising of the mouth tip inevitably gave him away, the more he tried to control it, the more it quivered. Finally he has a chance to make some money, you can never say no to money when you have none.

“So you want a biography?” asked K.

“No, the book is almost finished, I just need you to give it an extra flare. Only the passionate spirt of a writer like yours can bring it to life.” Just then, K noticed the eyes of the old woman started to fix on him.

Holding tight of the cheque, K’s smile has become sincere now: “I shall commit myself to the work with full devotion.”

With a mischievous smile, the old woman pointed at a hidden door wasn’t noticed by K before.

“The book is in there, go offer your spirit.” K stands up offered a deep bow this time, taking a light step towards the hidden door.

There is pure whiteness in the room, a cupboard, table, chair, a big flower pot with white branches, the few items in the room are all like painted, there is no colour. K looked around and sees no window or light, somehow the room is bright like a sunny summer day. Everything seems to have a faint halo of its own, but no shades, it made everything appear to be totally flat, K has to try really hard to discern the edges of the objects.

One thing easily caught his eye in this surreal white room, it is a little black book floating at the end of the room. As K walking closer to it, he relaxed with a sign, the book is lying one a white table, this calmed his nervous by quite a bit.

Looking down, the blackness of the book is like a hole in the room with an unfathomable depth. Since it is the only book in the room, K takes it into his hand and starts to carefully inspecting the cover. It seems to be brand new, once picked up in the hand, it is rather light and thin, more of a little pocket notebook. It has a curved spine and a smooth surface with a texture rather different from leather, but there is no title or symbols anyway, not even stitches on the black cover.

Full of anticipation, K opened to view the first page, (blank), there is nothing on the first page. A bit puzzled, he held within one of his palm, leafed through the page, pure whiteness, it is blank on every single page.

Just as he about put down the book, the black frame from the cover starts to creep out, the straight edge starts to wiggle and dance like a vibrating string, unsure of what he sees, K pulled the book closer to his face, then suddenly the blackness increased infinitely in its size, shallowed K like a rapacious mouth.

The book dropped onto the table again, it closed itself as done by an invisible hand. On the front cover, a drop of blood emerged form a capital letter, K.