The Standstill

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BE–

I roll over, groaning into my pillow. Does it have to be morning? I don't want to get up yet – a few more minutes of sleep won't hurt anyone, right?

The warmth and softness of my duvet is making it even harder to face getting up. Why do beds always seem comfier in the morning?

My mind starts to drift, everything fades to black. It's quiet.

Wait... I don't remember snoozing my alarm. Why did it stop? Did I do it and forget? I know I do that sometimes but I'm sure my arms stayed where they are next to me. Yes. I can feel them still wrapped tightly in the blanket.

Why is it so quiet?

Does it even matter? Quiet means more sleep. I like sleeping. Everything starts turning black again and I feel myself relaxing...

But why is it so quiet?

My eyes snap open. I'm fully alert. There's no noise whatsoever.

But my whole room looks normal: the wardrobe, my desk, bedside table. My alarm clock still says 7:00am. I'm sure I've been awake for over a minute.

My head aches. I shut my eyes and take in a long breath. Maybe I'm still half asleep. There will be a noise in a second, my clock will tick forward any minute now...

Static pounds in my skull as my ears strain to pick out any tiny sound anywhere. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Please be a minute forward. Please let something move. I'm actually getting a bit freaked out now.

I squint my eyes, allowing them to open slowly while I will my clock to just tick forward. It doesn't. 7:00am still lights up the small screen.

I'm suddenly aware of a weight pressing down onto my chest, making it hard to breathe. Is it my duvet? Why does it feel so heavy all of a sudden? I push my hands into the mattress but it hardly moves. My blanket does the same thing, it feels frozen in place. Am I in sleep paralysis or something? I've never had it before but this is what I imagine it would feel like.

A shiver travels down my spine, something is very, very wrong.

"MUUUM!"

The shout echoes through my room, the door's closed and the noise seems trapped between my four walls. I can't move. I want to move. My pulse is rising fast and I can feel my heart pounding against my ribs. Nausea hits me like a wave and a lump forms in my throat.

My blanket is stuck. I can feel the softness and it squishes slightly, but then seems to hit a wall, refusing to lift. Sweat trickles down my forehead as the claustrophobia starts to set in. My skin burns and my pyjamas feel about three sizes too small. It's like they're suffocating me.

My legs kick out with as much force as possible.

But they just slide back and forth, their movements limited by the tunnel of solid fabric. It does move a bit but then collapses into place again. My chest struggles against it to expand enough for me to get a deep breath in.

But it's too hard. I'm trapped, only able to catch shallow bursts of air.

I have to get out.

Using the solid edges of the blanket, I shuffle my feet along and squirm up.

Pain bursts through my head – I hit it on the headboard. But my arms are free!

Soon, with a couple more kicks, I manage to wiggle up and out, jumping to stand.

The floor doesn't make a sound – not one creak.

My pillow still has a dent from my head and the duvet seems to hover, breaking all the laws of gravity. Wiping my hand across my forehead, I try to catch my breath. The drops of sweat fall to the floor.

The clock still says 7. Time isn't moving. It can't be.

Maybe I'm dreaming? This feels kind of like a dream – being trapped and panicking. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut again, hoping to open them back in my bed, but really I know I won't be. This is all too real. But in a dream it feels real?

Or maybe I'm dead. Maybe when you die you have to live in that exact moment forever...

That would actually be horrible. I really hope I'm not dead.

The air is thick and stale, my breath keeps catching in my throat – like my lungs are a balloon that will not blow up properly. Just thinking about it, that strange stinging, tingling pain radiates in my tongue and cheeks. I hate blowing up balloons.

The floorboards are cold and don't seem to be getting any warmer where I'm standing. My feet are actually starting to feel a bit numb.

With one last ragged breath I open my eyes again. My wardrobe is slightly ajar and my school uniform's in a crumpled heap on the desk chair.

I take a step towards it and reach out, pushing my hand into the fabric. It does squash and I can crumple it a little in my hand but then it won't actually change position. As soon as I let go it snaps back to its original shape. Just like how my duvet would keep falling back down to trap me as soon as I got it to lift even a millimetre.

With all my strength, I land a fist into the centre of the pile of clothes. The impact hits it and makes a normal looking crater but as soon as I release the pressure everything bounces back up again. I can't change anything. It is literally frozen in time.

I turn to the window and reach it in a couple of long steps, leaning forward onto the sill how I always do to look outside. A bird is floating in the sky, its wings spread out, feathers looking ruffled up in what must have been wind. A woman is busy getting in her car, the door's open and she has one foot inside but now she's frozen in place. So if even people are frozen, why can I still move?

Leaves are suspended half way to the ground, falling gracefully from the tree across the street. It's like looking at a painting, like a moment in a movie that's been put on pause.

I can see the man who lives across from me in his downstairs window. His face is scrunched in what looks to be a yawn and the curtains are still firmly held in his fists.

Another bird is perched on a fence post in my garden. It's a pigeon. The sunlight's reflecting on its feathers making them shine in a green colour. I never really noticed how much colour a pigeon has on its feathers – the green and purple metallic ones on its neck and the dark lines and dots scattered over its wings.

Another shiver spreads through my body. This is so strange. As much as I didn't want to go to school it's actually starting to seem not so bad.

I have to work out what's going on – I could still be dreaming for all I know right now.

I need to leave my bedroom, but there's one big problem – how am I going to open a door that's frozen in place?