“So that’s it? I can just take her and go?”
He twitched one eyebrow and smiled.
I wasn’t reassured; it reminded me that he had teeth. I shivered at the sight of the extra incisors.
“Stay or go. As you can.”
I straightened, easing cramps my immobility had caused. She whimpered and I shushed her absently, eyes never leaving him as I backed away.
“Good luck” his voice thrummed in my guts like a bass amplifier turned to eleven.
I turned, beginning as swift an ascent as my tender burden allowed. I was puzzled; concerned by his acquiescence to losing his latest prize.
The stairs seemed endless. I worried that was his meaning, before we emerged into the half-light.
Just sit on the quantum anchor, tied as it was to our reality, and we’re home free.
I looked out – and understood his smile.
Heavy footfalls shook the stairs behind me.
This story was written for Angela Goff's Visual Dare Flash Fiction Challenge