MirrorMirror

15 / The Fall

Cassidy almost dropped the box he was holding.

For a moment, he couldn't seem to make cognisant thoughts, as his mind tripped over his lack of movement. He'd taken... what... seven steps? Eight? So, how could he still be only two down? It didn't make sense!

It reminded him of a story he'd once read. Descending, by Thomas D. Disch. The protagonist was on a never-ending escalator and hadn't realised until it was too late. For Cass, there was no moving staircase and, so far, no descent into madness. Mad, as in angry, perhaps, but not madness. What was his brain doing in allowing his body to move – or not – outside of his control? Was he so distracted he thought steps were being taken when he was stationary? No! He'd been focussing on the stairs. He knew that. He hadn't wanted to trip or fall.

So...?

Shifting the box to the side and pressing it against the top of his hip for support, he watched as his left foot lifted, moved forward and down. He felt the difference between the firm surface, the air and the next firm surface. Step to step. Sight and touch were in sync. He repeated the action with the right foot. Once more. Once more! Each time, he kept his attention on his body. It was moving. There was no doubt.

He looked back to see his progress.

Two steps above him was the landing.

"What the fuck?"

He would not be beaten. His mind was screwing with him, but it wasn't going to stop him from simply going down the stairs. It couldn't. He was a grown man. A reasonable one. If he was having some sort of break down, he'd do it on his own terms. That meant on the ground floor if he so wished.

This time, he kept his attention on the top step. The wall gave the support he needed and, if he went slowly, he'd be able to feel his way with his feet. His foot could slide forward then down, without breaking contact with the stairway. He could watch his progress and know it wasn't imagined. It would break the spell.

Ensuring he was holding the box marked Kitchen tightly, Cassidy moved his leg. Out and down. Out and down. A steady but definite rhythm made real by watching the top step recede upwards.

Creak.

Nine.

Yes! He glanced down at the source of the sound and grinned. There it was! Normally, he'd have planned to fix seven and nine. It was the same with door hinges that protested when put to use. A quick squirt of lubricant was all that was needed, and something he didn't delay with. Little noises in houses irritated him. It was as if the building was complaining about the occupants, instead of celebrating their presence and the fact they were fulfilling its destiny.

With the staircase, he forgave it. Seven and nine were unobtrusive usually, only making themselves known when used. Otherwise, they were silent. On this occasion, nine, and soon seven, was helping him. Using its voice for good, rather than to annoy.

He glanced down at his new friend, mentally giving thanks for the assistance. He looked back again. Keeping his eye on the landing was the key to his success, and he didn't want to lose it.

Two steps.

Two.

TWO!

Cassidy was right back where he began.

"FUCK!"

That one word was an opened gate, releasing a torrent of profanity and a burst of anger. He pushed himself away from the wall and stormed down the stairs. Let his insanity keep up with that!

And, creak, there was nine! And there, groan, was seven! Yes!

And then the world was spinning, and the box was flying and Cassidy was falling.