. . . Gone Tomorrow

As I climbed the stairs a sinking feeling developed in the lower corner of my stomach. A thick sensation of my body being poured into a toilet bowl like yesterday’s soup overcame me. And I could feel the frigid heaviness of water weighing above my peas-and-potato bits settling near the bottom of the cold porcelain walls. Other times I felt sure I was lurching sideways yet here I was placing one foot firmly above the next in narrow rigid ascension. In my mind I knew I must be going up, from the very outset I could see the horned tower curved upwards, but the feelings in my body betrayed reason. My arms and legs tired from treading the stairs thickening with a skin like left-over chocolate pudding. And then for a stretch it felt like I wasn’t going anywhere at all. I persisted in the monotony until a drip of water from above hit the tip of my nose, and then I, no, everything was moving forward again, faster and faster still, up toward a misty light the size of a keyhole that was growing larger and larger until it enveloped my body completely.

I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath until I caught a reflection of myself turning blue in an old cracked mirror leaning against the stone and mortar wall below the turret of the bailey. I ran to hang my head out the turret to catch a gulp of fresh air; I was finally here and the view was glorious. Here I could taste the whole town, the river, the countryside, the ocean, and Asia. As the flesh of my cheeks warmed against the sun, I quickly undid my braids to fling my tresses over the turret Rapunzel style . My hair however appeared alarmingly short hanging alongside the lean and terrible tower. As my disappointment grew, my hair started to shrink until my thoughts turned to despair. In seconds, my hair was but a page-boy cut. I began to ring my hands as the strands snapped back to my head faster than an eight year-old could slurp back strands of spaghetti. I pinched at a single hair to hold it back from joining the now crew-cut but it wiggled furiously to be set free and be measly stubble. Then a loud bang from behind startled me.

I turned to face the noise. It was Blue hanging from the rafters where he had been roosting with his
birds. His icy eyes met mine, as he swayed upside down by his knees; his nose grazed against the skin on my head and then I realized I was bald. Covering my hands over my head, I bolted.

My descent down the tower I cannot describe as I only remember the sensation of the initial leap and the static state of flying down before the outside sunlight hit my face on exiting.

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