You already know what to do.

I cut odd phrases out of magazines. I have boxes of them on my desk, more stuffed inside my laptop case beneath the keyboard. I use them both for collage and for writing prompts. Have time to write but nothing springs to mind? Grab a clipping and begin to write. 

You already know what to do.

Take your right hand, move it widdershins until the humming stops. Close your eyes, count down from ten in Swahili. Or Polish maybe. After the violent flash, it will be safe to open your eyes again. Don’t breath too deeply. The peppery smoke will make you cough. Carefully, step towards the staircase. If the light at the top is yellow, knock on the newel post in Morse code. You know the pattern. It has been drilled into your head for just such an occasion. A blue light would have been better. Green would’ve been worse. That has only happened once. You hope it never happens again. You and everyone else involved.

The yellow light makes your complexion unpleasant. Minor imperfections double in size, reflecting your face back to you. Those really are pimples, aren’t they? Shit. Time to lay off the peanut butter again. What will you eat for lunch now? It is not like you make any money doing this. To have to skip meals on top of all this mess will push you to your very limit. It won’t be the first time.

Halfway up the flight of stairs, the light blinks off. The darkness is thick enough to feel. You wrap it around your shoulders like a cloak and keep going. You’ve gotten this far and it seems ridiculous to give up due to lack of light. Reach into the pocket of the cloak for the key to the door at the top of the stairs. Eat one of the licorice whips you find there instead. Eat a second. Hope the door is unlocked this time. Show no surprise when there is no door at all. Step onto the landing. Turn thrice clockwise.

Raise the window around the corner on the left. The tabby cat who enters will be annoyed that you forgot to bring dried shrimp for it to eat. Do not offer it a licorice whip. You will only make it angry. Do not pet it. It is your superior here. Pets are for underlings. Follow the cat through the forest edge to the clearing where the mushrooms congress. The cat will vanish when you blink. Dance when the daisies approach to ask you. Eat nothing they offer. You don’t know where it has been.

Your next guide will come from the west, holding an unlit candle. Offer him the last licorice whip. It will be longer than the others. Hold tight to the end, otherwise, the balloon will rise without you. Don’t speak no matter how many questions the clouds ask.

They will only laugh at your answers.

No one wants that.

It starts slowly, felt, more than heard. As the vibrations increase the paralysis will set in. You will not be able to walk further. Inhale deeply and hold that breath before your diaphragm ceases to flex. Your left arm freezes up to the shoulder, the water rising threateningly. Do not panic.

You already know what to do.