The hypnotist spoke in a soothing monotone. “You are at the top of an escalator, and as you listen to the sound of my voice, you will step onto the escalator and it will begin its descent.”
His cascading vocals coerced me to follow him, down into the vault of my memory. Back to a time before I ever knew drugs existed.
I exited the escalator, as a girl of maybe four, in white underpants, running laps in the fresh dewy grass, as the sun rose, in the front yard of my childhood home.
Was I really ever so innocent?
Written for Friday Fictioneers.