A Firm Foothold

The ribbed valleys beneath me were deep. I stood motionless, taking in the soft, upright slopes of the grey fabric behind me. Silence. Then, a slight shift in weight. My legs held firm on the textured surface. To my right sat a round white ghost figurine; to my left, an orange pumpkin. I turned my head slowly, reaching out one small hand until my fingertips met the smooth, cool curve of the little white ghost beside me. It did not move, but I did. I stayed right there, grounded and steady.