WRITING PROMPT NO. 185
She pushed at the door with her forefinger.
She had to be gentle. Her grandfather told her that. This was a tiny world full of tiny people. Alice loved being up in the attic immersed in the miniature world he'd created. This door was new. She hadn’t come across it before and she knew every nook, every crevice, every building and bonsai tree that was laid out across the attic room.
Her grandfather had started building it in his retirement. He’d always loved making things. A train made its way around the village blowing out small puffs of steam. He'd built it for his granddaughter after her mother died. His daughter. Their only child.
Alice placed her chin near the high street where a bakery and an old-fashioned sweet shop opened their doors every morning. She closed her eyes. Sounds of movement, of people, of cars, distant conversation reached her ears.
They were here. He always said they would be. But she couldn’t open her eyes.
She heard a child chatting with her mother. A girl perhaps the same age as Alice. She needed shoes, her mother was working out her budget. Alice squeezed her eyes shut. Just one peek. She opened up the corner of one eye and squinted at the scene before her. A sharp intake of breath resonated from one tiny person to another and they all scattered inside tiny doors slamming behind them. Alice breathed out in frustration opening her eyes wide.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Feeling brave? Want to share your story? In the words of one Disney princess, Let it go, in the comments below.