Down the Rabbit Hole

Gold Medals and Black Nights

Last night was a difficult one. On nights like last night, it is the little things that make all the difference. The simplest gestures can bring the most comfort, like my husband coming upstairs to find me and give me a hug, wordlessly wrapping me in his arms for a few moments. Or my daughter, just about to throw a fit about wanting to eat her dinner in front of the television, taking an extra moment to register the look on my face and deciding instead to calmly walk with me hand in hand into the dining room. The little things my little family does to make my world a little lighter...make all the difference in a day.

"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"
Day 885 August 10, 2016
Prompt: What Olympic Event would you like to have a Gold Medal in?

I can answer this one without hesitation...Ski jump! I don't think there is anything more badass than rocketing oneself down a ramp at over 60 miles per hour for the sole purpose of launching into the air, traveling over 390 feet and landing, ON SKIES...with all your internal organs still in place. If I were to win a gold medal for such a thing, my supreme awesomeness would nevermore be in question!!


"Blogging Circle of Friends "
DAY 1366 August 11, 2016
The door swung open but no one was visible.... and?

The rain soaked stoop stood empty in the amber glow of the porch light. Alexia had hear the knocking, the rabid banging, only moments before. She had rushed from the kitchen, her hands still wet from the dishes and trailing suds across the wood floors and her heart pounding away in her chest, to throw the door open. Nothing. No one. She peered out into the night, looking for anything through the curtains of black rain. She stepped back, about to close the door, when she saw something. She stepped forward out onto the stoop, started down the brick stairs to the walkway. On the second step, lying half off the edge, was piece of waterlogged notebook paper. She gingerly picked it up, unfolded the wet edges and struggled to read the fading ink.

The first line she was fairly certain read only, "Tick Tock" in a narrow, neat script.

The second line was harder to decipher, the writing more obscured by rain damage. She brought the paper closer toward the light and tried again.

"Your Alice ran out of time." Alexia felt shock radiate through her body as the words swam into clearer focus.

She flipped the paper over but there was nothing more than the cryptic message bearing her late mother's first name.

"Your Alice", she read aloud again, the words settling upon her like a sudden chill.

Alexia found herself desperately wanting to be back inside her little house. She backed up the stoop, reluctant to turn her back on the night and fled inside, the paper clutched in one of her small hands.