Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she reached over to pick up the glass with the orange liquid from the night stand. As usual she had insisted on a straw which would help her drink it more quickly. Today the straw was red. As usual she bent it slightly before looking into the glass and taking the first sip. She always paused after the first sip though never knew why. She knew the taste of the liquid well for she had drank it once a day for years, but secretly she hoped every day that it was less acidic, less strong, and – for once – actually taste good. It tasted the same as it always did.
As she took the straw back between her teeth and felt the somewhat sharp plastic end with her tongue about to draw in the next sips, suddenly her body was no longer under her control. Everything seemed to happen incredibly fast yet in slow motion. The glass fell from her hand on the bedsheets next to her, spilling the liquid. “Luckily the bedsheets were a similar colour” she thought. Her body arched up, throwing her head back only narrowly avoiding the stonewall against which the length of the bed was pushed. Her legs appeared tangled up, her body had moved too quickly for them to be readjusted and they remained cross-legged as suddenly her arched back stopped and she fell forward off the bed hurtling towards the floor. Hurriedly she tried to pull her arms to the front to brace the fall though she never hit the ground.
Her arms had transformed and instead of coming up in front of her face, they remained by her side, covered in a dense array of feathers. She tried moving them down again to look at them more closely, but it only caused her to rise up more. A gust of wind came in from the open window gently tousling the feathers. Closing her eyes she breathed in, then, eyes open, looked towards the window and the slither of blue skies outside before determinedly moving her arms and leaving the room behind. With strong strokes she flew up higher and higher until she was out of breath and let the wind carry her. She could no longer see the window or the house or the town. All she could see was white. All she could feel was complete weightlessness.
The rasping sound caught her by surprise and she opened her eyes quickly. Without realising she had drunk the last of the liquid and the straw could only draw in air. Still cross-legged, she placed the glass back on the coaster of the night stand curious what tomorrow’s adventure would bring.
Inspiration: I actually was drinking a glass of water, but this did not happen to me!
At the beginning of the year I did really well to write a little bit each day, but that tapered off due to reasons. For the month of October I’m challenging myself to write at least 250 words on some short story or scene or something per day. I’ll probably use Story Cubes and Writing Prompts for inspiration. These will be unedited and probably rubbish, but by posting them it feels like I’m holding myself accountable and thus will hopefully finish the month.
All stories live in this category: October 2016 writing challenge.