What sort of New Year’s weekend would it be if I didn’t have a Friday Fictioneers story posted (albeit a day late?)
I stared up the crumbling, sunlit staircase and smiled. I had made it. After spending the last two years saving every spare penny I could scrape up – twice, as the first round of savings was wiped out by a flooded basement – I was finally here.
A group of tourists came through the arch behind me, laughing at their interpreter’s jokes, and my reverie was broken. The sunshine that lit the top of the stairs, however, was not; drawing me in, a moth to its flame.
I ducked under the rusty chain and began to climb.