The Blue Window (alternative ending)

Posted: December 5, 2013 in Mystery
Tags: , , , , , ,

Blue_WindowThe boy stood and stared. On the other side of the street, there were two illuminated windows on the upper floor. The right one glowed in a warm yellow colour, the left one emanated a bluish glow. Tim stood in the middle of the side-walk, totally lost in thoughts. The other pedestrians had to push by. A business man gruffly said “Stop daydreaming, you…”, followed Tim’s gaze and stood in awe. An elder woman approached, shaking her head, she started to rumble about their meanness of standing in her way and fell silent as she looked in the same direction. More people gathered, wondering about the blue window.

Finally home, Tim told his family about the blue window. His parents and his younger sister were only mildly interested. Tim was disappointed. He called Matt, his classmate and best friend since kindergarten. Matt was thrilled. “Cool!” As Matt lived pretty close to the house in question, he sneaked out to take a peek at the blue window. He was inclined to cross the street and find out the names on the doorbell, he didn’t dare to do so. He hurried home before his mother could realise that he had been away. He could hardly sleep. The blue window still occupied his thoughts.

Next morning, Tim and Matt met at the usual corner. They entered the school premises still debating about the blue window. Before the bell rang, they found out that they were not the only ones who had seen the blue window. Their heated discussion continued in class. Miss Mortimer finally put an end to the constant mumbling. This class was difficult. All her pupils seemed to be the laziest in this school. They didn’t seem to care about their final exams, about their future. Today, they were even worse than ever. Nobody seemed to pay any attention. Miss Mortimer was relieved when the doorbell announced the end of class.

Lunch break was filled with explanations and suggestions. Those, who had not yet seen the blue window, wanted to get their at once. “Nonsense,” Tim said. “The window is not illuminated at this time of day. Back in class, all continued their thoughts while pretending to listen to their teacher. Marsha answered “Blue!” when asked about the colour of the Canadian flag. Jack’s answer to the question about the Empire State Building’s top was “Window!”. After a full week, Miss Mortimer had enough of this. Friday morning, she told her class to follow her, and led them to the house. As it was still rather dark, the window was illuminated. All watched the window very intently – until the lights went out behind the window. Back at school, Miss Mortimer looked at her pupils who – for once – were really listening and said sternly: “All of you had the opportunity to watch this ominous blue window. I expect you to write an essay about it, about its purpose, at least 1,000 words. Be aware, this essay is going to be a vital part for your grades.”

All pupils in Miss Mortimer’s class were relieved when the last bell rang. They were all keen on writing about the blue window. They only stopped if they absolutely had to, feverishly filling page after page with their stories. Tim’s idea was that a psychiatrist had ordered a patient to live in a pacifying blue flat, to keep aggression at bay. Matt wrote about a private laboratory, testing the effect of the blue colour for improved growth. Marsha described the flat as part of a big aquarium, the blue colour being meant to make the fish, crustacean, turtles, etc. feel at home. Danny explained that the flat’s inhabitant didn’t like insects; insects are known to abhor blue coloured environments. Alex favoured the idea of a man who just wanted to have his favourite colour all around him. Sam liked the idea of a Swedish guy, showing off the blue and the yellow window together. Judy, always a romantic, wrote about a couple living in the flat. The guy having a blue room, the girl having a pink room. Sean suggested a therapy centre in the flat. Joy wrote about The Blue Man Group, she was convinced that they preferred blue to any other colour.

On Monday morning, all were in class on time. Miss Mortimer smiled for the first time in months. Bill collected the essays and handed them to the teacher. She thanked him and addressed the class: “I start reading your essays in the afternoon. Hopefully, I can hand them back to you on Thursday, after lunch break. Until then, we will have to intensify some topics to prepare you for the final exams.” She had Bernie and Jade distribute some photocopied sheets. For the first time in this year, everybody concentrated on the studies. For the first time since Miss Mortimer took over this class, she got feedback, was asked questions, answered them. This was fun. The lack of her pupils’ interest had been quite unnerving. It was a relief – she already had considered quitting.

On Tuesday morning, Miss Mortimer realised that they were all very attentive and utterly polite. The hours flew by, all pupils concentrated on their tasks. A day at school as it should be, Miss Mortimer thought. As promised, she had already started reviewing the essays. They were astonishingly good. Instead of the usual Ds, Es, and Fs – she had so far only seen As and Bs. The suggestions were amazing, beautiful, unexpected, incredibly witty. She found herself looking forward to continuing this normally rather dreadful task.

Wednesday was a very successful day for Miss Mortimer and her class. A job consultant visited, presented perspectives, and all her pupils listened, asked intelligent questions, and surprised the experienced consultant with new questions. In the afternoon, Miss Mortimer finished reviewing the Blue Window essays. Only As and Bs were written on the cover sheets. Contentedly, she stacked the essays in her folder, finished her coffee, and put on her coat. She left her flat and went to the house with the blue window. She was still reading the nameplates when a dark-haired, green-eyed man approached. “May I help you?” Miss Mortimer told him that she was looking for the person living in the flat with the blue window. The young man smiled – it was his flat.

“My pupils are fascinated by your blue window. After they detected it, they were even less concentrated as usual. The blue window was their only topic for a whole week. I had them write essays over the weekend – about the meaning of this blue window. They had many great suggestions.”

“And now you want to know, why my window is blue.”

Miss Mortimer nodded. Her cheeks felt hot. ‘Such an attractive guy,’ she thought inwardly.

“Why don’t you come up and I’ll show you?”

Miss Mortimer blushed and – nodded. He opened the door and they went upstairs. On the third landing, he opened the door to the left. There was a peculiar odour in the air. Her host shut the door behind her and locked it thoroughly. Miss Mortimer started to really feel ill at ease.

“Please follow me.” He opened the first door on the left. The room was nicely lit, there were some warm yellow shades, the furniture seemed comfortable, everything was rounded or oval. A door on the right led to another yellowish room. The colouring seemed more aggressive, the furniture was angular; not a room Miss Mortimer would have chosen to spend longer times in. To the right of this room, another door led to a bluish room. Everything was in a different shade of blue, the furniture was round and oval; yet Miss Mortimer did not like it – it seemed depressing. Another door led to the next room. Again, there were different shades of blue, the furniture was angular, the colouring didn’t provide any warmth; Miss Mortimer felt chilled to the bone. The second door in that room led to a room in pastel colours like peach, plum, pink, turquoise, lime, and lemon. Everything in this room was light and flowing. After the chilly room before, this room seemed nauseatingly sweet. Miss Mortimer felt hot, had the urge to run, lacked the power to do so. A nearly invisible door led back to the corridor. To see the corridor was a relief.

Her host passed several doors until he arrived at the last door on the left. He went through the door and Miss Mortimer was relieved to be in a normal kitchen. “Coffee?” Her host grabbed two clean mugs from the shelf and didn’t wait for her answer. They settled at a small table by the window.

The young man started to explain. “Professor Harold Harding, his assistant David Parkes and I went to a site in the woods to collect star-dust. You certainly remember the meteor showers last month? There were multiple impact locations. We collected samples for a research project. We conducted multiple tests at our laboratory at the university. Suddenly, there was an anomaly. We detected that some of the samples were colour sensitive. This was big news. An anonymous donor agreed to do the funding – if we agreed to continue our research outside the university – and with another minor project.”

“Why the different furniture? Why not just have simple rooms with different colouring?”

“This is due to our joint project. I cannot tell you about it, though. This is subject to secrecy.”

Miss Mortimer’s intuition was in full swing. “Psychotherapy! Does star-dust react in the same degree as a human being? Incredible?”

“Are you a scientist?”

“No, I am just a meaningless little teacher.”

Before she could say more, the front door opened and light steps approached. A woman in her fifties entered. “Terence!” she exclaimed. “What to you think you are doing? I expect you in consulting room A within a minute!”

The young man shot up, nearly spilling his coffee, and sprinted from the kitchen. Miss Mortimer insecurely rose from her chair. The woman smiled at her reassuringly and stretched out her hand.

“My name is Dr. Franka Stein. I apologize for Terence’s behaviour. He can be quite a nuisance. He is harmless, though.”

Miss Mortimer was thunderstruck. “Are you implying…”

“He is a patient, yes. The colour therapy has helped him considerably. You don’t need to worry.”

“And the research, the star-dust?”

“He has a vivid fantasy, really.” Dr. Franka Stein chuckled and accompanied Miss Mortimer to the front door.

After Miss Mortimer had left, Dr. Franka Stein went to consulting room A – glad to have arrived in time – and gave Terence an earful. When would he ever learn that it wasn’t so easy to get rid of a corpse. She would definitely have to increase his medication.

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This blog post and/or photo by Matthew Richards inspired me to write The Blue Window

This blog post was also inspired by Ruth Viridis who was interested in reading an alternative ending.  🙂

  1. Ruth says:

    dear Karen, I feel touched 😉 this ending is full of fantasy and I love the irony of the turning point in the end 🙂

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