Leigh had made it upstairs. She looked at the door of the room in which you could make things. On it was a notice, but she couldn’t figure out if it was upside down, right side up, or tilted to the right or left. It seemed like anyway she looked at it, she couldn’t read it.
There was obviously a warning there, hidden in the odd picture. Leigh shed some light on the problem by flipping the light switch at the top of the stairs. No new thoughts entered her brain on what the picture said. She tried blurring her vision as if it was one of those hidden pictures. Nothing.
Leigh sighed and sat down at the top of the stairs. At least it was quieter up here. The odd banter from below wafted up as unintelligible sounds. A high pitched squeal made her flinch, but she didn’t move.
Head in hands she looked out the window. What was she doing her. If everyone here had and author, did that mean she had one too? If she didn’t then who was she? And how did Leigh know it was a she? Heaving another big sigh, Leigh leaned against the wall, her eyes slowly closing.