Up the Down – 101 words
Circling the block wasn’t my thing. Finding my way home from lost was.
The staircase surely hadn’t always been there? Tucked between the ruins of faded paper dolls and sweaty groping dates—but there it was now. The first step cracked beneath my shoe, the second tread I tripped on vines and at the top the gate clanged shut; I ran back down, tripping in my haste, falling to the ground, but where the sidewalk should have been was mirror . . . where the world turned upside down and inside out and all became reflection.
And you. I’m lost forever.
When I was a girl I remember walking aimlessly through our house carrying a mirrored tray for no other purpose than to experience the disorientation of “walking on the ceiling.” Mama always said it was a good thing we didn’t have stairs or I’d break my neck. Apologies to Bel Kaufman for the unworthy homage and Amy Reese for the bit of manipulation on her intriguing photo prompt this week, and another round of hearty thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting the Friday Fictioneers. Want more flash? Click the frog.