The Brass Runway

A gleaming brass banister curved down the wide stone staircase like an endless golden roller coaster. Walking down regular steps was entirely out of the question. I scrambled onto the rounded newel post, straddled the smooth metal rail in my squeaky blue sneakers, and lined up my trajectory. Dry pause. I lifted my soles and leaned forward. WHOOSH! Cold brass hissed under my ribs as gravity took over, whipping the grey stone facades of Cimetary Hall into a swirling blur! I flared my oversized white gloves wide for aerodynamic balance, laughing as the breeze rattled my pink shades. Right at the bottom spiral, I stomped both rubber heels down hard—SCREEECH! Smooth landing, perfectly intact.