Beams of white sunlight, visible due to the abundant dust in the air, stream in from the diagonal skylight windows embedded in the ceiling. The orange glow of a hanging lamp helps illuminate the darker areas the sun couldn't reach. Amidst miscellaneous boxes, dozens of paintings sit on the floor leaning against the walls. She sees landscape artworks detailing rivers and rocky beaches, far off mountains of rolling sand, thickets of towering pole-like plants - her mother always did have a great imagination. Some paintings Willow recognizes, and some are brand new to her. Some of the new ones are visibly old and faded, the paint peeling unappealingly. Willow hasn't been in the attic in years; she was never allowed up here, as Mom didn't want a little girl to ruin her focus or her paintings. And after she was gone... Willow could never bring herself to come up here.
One painting in particular stands out among the rest. It lies half-finished on the easel in the center of the room. It must be the one Mom was working on when Mint came home. Willow approaches it slowly, peering at it. At first glance it was just a somewhat abstract illustration of featureless grassy hills below brewing clouds. However, looking at it longer reveals a shape that starts to appear in the center, combining the clouds and the hills. The shape was a tree - not just any tree, but a weeping willow. Willow blinked, and the shape was gone, once more becoming clouds swirling above rolling hills.
She's a genius painter, isn't she? A real shame that where you're from, she's gone.
The voice speaks up again, having followed her into the attic. Willow closes her eyes in frustration.
"Do you have to follow me everywhere I go?"
Of course. I'm your shadow, aren't I?
Willow responds with anger in her voice, still refusing to turn around. "Who are you really? Where am I? What is this place?!" She feels herself starting to cry and puts her hands over her eyes as if she could plug her tear ducts with her palms.
Settle down, Willow. I am you, or just a fragment. You may refer to me as Wallow. I always have been a part of you, watching from the sidelines. You've been such a sad, sad girl following the accident. I'm just doing what would make you happiest.
She thought about Wallow's words. This is what makes her happiest.
"So, you've brought me to a world where..."
Yes, where you do not exist. This world is cured of the disease that is you. While this is a dream, it is also real. When the daylight ends, you will make a decision to stay here or to wake up in your plagued world.
To stay in this world forever. Mom, happy and alive, still painting her pictures. Dad, working a steady job that pays this house's mortgage, still dabbling in eccentric cooking. Mint, still going to school with, of course, full depth perception, and a pair of loving parents.
"Mint said he just got home from school. What school is that?" Willow asks with innocent curiosity.
Such things are matters for another time. What you need to be considering is your own place in this world.
Willow watches the dust motes dance in the air. Her eyes gradually focus on the back wall of the attic and she spots a cardboard box with a particular word written on it: "Willow." Her eyes widen.
"Hey, Wallow? When you said I don't exist here..." She slowly creeps up to the box as she speaks. "How exactly... did that come to pass?"
Step away from the box, Willow. The contents will only upset and disturb you.
Disregarding the warning, Willow unfolds the cardboard top and inspects the objects inside: baby clothes, glittery shoes, a stuffed platypus named Missy. Last time she saw that platypus, her bill had been torn off by an angry goose one tragic day when Willow was ten, cotton innards scattered everywhere. Now there she sat, perfect condition. Even Missy's life is better without her.
She closes the box with a wince. She says, "Wallow... where am I in this world? What happened to little Willow?"
After a pause during which Wallow doesn't respond, Willow turns around accusingly towards the eyes in the corner. They are still there. She can make out the outline of her own body around the eyes.
"What happened?" Willow demands. "And why won't you tell me what school Mint goes to?!"
No response from Wallow, only staring. She thinks if that thing had a mouth, it would be smiling too. Instead of answering her question, Wallow's eyes close and disappear, leaving Willow alone in the attic staring at her shadow on the wall.
Outside, the overcast clouds begin a light drizzle. Or is that the start of snow?