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Literature

Sliding Reality #11

Upstairs Candice’s footsteps echoed up the staircase, each step a jolt that sent Rick tumbling against the rough cardboard walls of his shoebox prison. His heart pounded in rhythm with the sway of the box, his mind racing as the scent of jasmine mingled with something metallic, sharp and unsettling. Through a small tear in the cardboard, he caught glimpses of her toned legs, the floral sundress swaying gently with her movement. It was surreal—he was trapped in a box, helpless, while she walked as if nothing in the world had changed. The stairs creaked under her weight, and Rick’s stomach churned with the movement. It wasn’t just the physical jostling that got to him—it was the sheer absurdity of it all. He, once so in control of his own life, now reduced to this—a helpless passenger in a shoebox, carried like a forgotten trinket up to her room. As she reached her bedroom, Rick’s breath caught in his throat. From his vantage point, he could see the expanse of her room through the