There was no top and no bottom. There were only the stairs, climbing upwards and downwards, a vertical eternity.
How long had they been climbing?
Vicki asked herself this question every night as they made camp upon a turn in the endless stair, breaking a bannister for firewood and cooking whatever it was they’d hunted that day. The old man seemed like he knew. The pain in his ancient eyes told her he remembered each instant they’d spent in that winding place.
“There has to be an exit eventually, my dear child,” he’d say. “Yes, yes. Eventually. All things come to an end.”
She was starting to wonder if the stair was an exception.
There came a noise and she was shaken from her thoughts. The old man whirled around, hands gripping his lapels.
“The spiders,” he whispered.
They ran as hairy legs scuttled half-seen in the shadows.
Word Count: 148
This is for Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Joy Pixley for providing the prompt photo!