This was written for The Red Dress Club, a virtual writer's society.Concrit is always welcomed and appreciated! This is a work of pseudo-non-fiction, in that Max really is afraid of stairs, but he isn't quite articulate enough to write this, so I did it on his behalf!
Write as non-fiction from your point of view or fiction from your character's point of view. Write a formal complaint letter to your deepest, darkest fear.
Word limit: 600 My count: 341
Dear Stairs,
You think I don't remember, but I totally do.
I might be barely three now, and I was not even two then, but I remember. It was Super Bowl Sunday, and I was just minding my own business, heading outside to see my Daddy and Papa.
You took the "heading" thing too literally, and made me fall. Right on my face!
I see you at home, all 11 of you, stacked up, looking all cushy and soft with the carpet on you, but I know better! I see you all alone, just one, painted red next to the sidewalk when Mommy and I walk to the doughnut shop. You're sneaky too, like in the middle of Nana and Papa's dining room.
You're practically everywhere I turn, and I can see you plotting against me, but you won't get me. I'm not taking ANY chances ever again!
Those big wide steps I have to climb to get to day care? I see you there, all rough and pebbly, just waiting to scrape my knees. Those open concrete ones to get to Mommy's office? Yeah, right! I'll probably fall right in between them and fall down to the lobby; I'll take the elevator, thanks.
Mommy and Daddy may try to get me to walk up and down them, but I won't fall for that... you're out to get me, and I'm not gonna let you win.
I've noticed something though... you seem to be shrinking! Every day, you're a little bit shorter, just a little less scary looking.
I'll win this battle eventually. You know it, and I know it.
You may still scare me, but I'm three now, a big boy. Big boys use the potty and don't drink from sippies and they walk on the stairs with their feet instead of their knees. That may be what Mommy and Daddy say, but I'll have to decide that on my own.
In the meantime, Stairs, we'll just agree to disagree. You stay right where you are, and I'll do what I need to pass you by.
Your power over me is limited, Stairs.
Signed,
Max
The fateful injury that created the fear of stairs. February 2010
