Note: This story was submitted to the Furious Fiction competition and required to adhere to the following rules:

The first sentence must include something being popped.

The story must include a character who references a film title.

The story must include the words LEAP, BOTTLE, and SHADOW.

The story must be no longer than 500 words

Up

The grey files thudded on her desk as Harry’s gruff voice said, ‘Hate to burst your bubble, girly, but here’s your next batch. Top two are marked urgent. Tim wants ‘em before lunch.’

Hazel started, dragging her gaze from the bright world outside the window to stare at Harry. ‘I-,’ she stammered. Her mouth was bone dry and she clutched at her water bottle, gulping down a sip that hardly helped. ‘I-.’

‘Look like you’ve seen a ghost, girly,’

In the back of her mind a voice piped up. This is your “Sliding Doors” moment, Hazel. You happened to look up just as that leaf broke free, and now you can’t unsee it.

Her heart hammered with shock and something else. She shook her head and muttered, ‘I don’t belong here,’ to herself as much as to Harry. It was a realisation more than a statement.

‘Yeah, join the club,’ said Harry, rolling his eyes. The wheels of his file cart squeaked as he ambled away. ‘Before lunch!’ he growled.

Hazel gazed back out the window, at the cornflower sky, the emerald leaves in the giant oak tree, golden rays of sunshine bursting between the leaves as they swayed in the breeze. There were memories trying to break through, hovering just beyond reach, but more powerful was the feeling. It was lemonade effervescing. It was warm dough rising and steam clouds billowing from a hot shower. It was the feeling of up.

Hazel rose from her desk and walked to the window, touching her palm to the glass. It had been as quick as a flash but she knew what she’d seen. The leaf had swayed and broken loose from its branch but it hadn’t fallen gently to the ground to land with its many cousins, nor had it been carried away on the gentle breeze. It had floated directly and purposefully up. It made no sense, and yet she knew that somehow it did. She looked up too, squinting in the sunlight.

She turned back to the office with its drab carpet, rows of grey desks, and the faces, all staring at the screens before them, cold blue light reflected on their glasses and their expressionless faces. Is it even a choice?

Heart pounding with possibility, Hazel breathed in and out. She nodded. She knew. Inside, she felt light and foamy, like bubbles in a child’s bath or egg whites beaten to soft peaks. She remembered this feeling. She smiled.

With a surge of adrenalin, she bolted out the emergency escape to the balcony, as her colleagues shouted. She ran to the balcony railing and climbed on top. Without hesitation, she leapt into the air, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that the thermal currents would catch and hold her like the strong, soft hands of a mother lifting her baby.

She was right.

As she soared up and away, her utter elation was only momentarily tempered by a sudden regret. She wished she’d grabbed her sunglasses.

Copyright Sophie Ransom 2024