This choice: Think to yourself, the climb would be dangerous, so try aiming for his legs • Go Back...Chapter #3Think to yourself, the climb would be dangerous... by: Tinymannn   I stared up at the broom’s handle, its height dizzying, stretching into the sky like a redwood. Climbing it to the counter would get me closer to Dad, but one slip, and I’d plummet to the kitchen floor—a fall I wouldn’t survive. My heart raced, and I shook my head. Too risky. I needed another way.
Dad’s legs moved beyond the doorway, massive pillars in faded jeans, shifting as he flipped pancakes. If I could get to his feet, maybe I could climb his pant leg or tug at a shoelace. He’d feel something, right? It was closer to the ground, safer. I nodded to myself. That was the plan.
I slid down the broom’s bristles, landing hard on the floor. The kitchen tiles stretched out like a frozen lake, slick and endless. I sprinted, my tiny legs pumping, dodging a fallen Cheerio and a drop of spilled coffee that shimmered like a tar pit. Dad’s boots were mountains, scuffed and worn, pacing between the stove and sink. I had to time this right.
I reached the shadow of his left leg as he paused, humming that old rock song. The hem of his jeans brushed the floor, frayed threads dangling like ropes. I grabbed one, pulling myself up, my arms trembling. The fabric swayed as he shifted, and I clung tight, my stomach flipping. “Dad!” I shouted, but my voice was a faint chirp, swallowed by the sizzle of bacon.
I climbed higher, past the rough denim, aiming for his knee. If I could just get there, maybe he’d notice a tickle, a pinch—something. His leg moved suddenly, a slow step that sent me swinging wildly. I gripped the fabric, my knuckles white, and kept climbing. He was oblivious, his deep laugh rumbling above like distant thunder. I wasn’t invisible yet. I could do this. Just a little higher, and I’d make him see me. | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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