Wow. 5000 words down, 5000 to go.
Thanks to Frank for the prompt.
A balloon.
Her house had human young in it: she knew balloons.
But this was new. Not pastel rubber but lurid foil. Not the usual bulbous form, but a dainty heart. And a miracle: it fell upwards, not down. Her eight eyes widened.
Soon enough, it floated to her corner of the ceiling: its ribbon released by a grubby fist. There wasn’t long. She leapt, lashing herself to it with skeins of silk. Soon she had it trussed up like a fat fly. She’d always envied flies.
The window was open.
The breeze caught her.
She was up and away.
Tom Juniper Poetry 