A year ago, the shaft of light pulled Elspeth from her wheelchair imprisonment. She extended her immovable arm, clasped the proffered, welcoming hand and ascended into the ether.
Fascinated, he watched. Afterward, every evening, he parked his wheelchair at the bottom of the garden labyrinth.
At last, choruses of harped music emanated from above. The clouds cracked open. Strips of rainbow facets cascaded into the maze. Once more, the powerful hand descended. It touched his shoulder and shoved. His chair toppled him into the mud.
The voice said, “Get up. Walk. You have work to do.”
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Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff Fields for hosting Fridays Fictioneer.