Writing Prompt: The string was blue.

Good morning one and all. I think I overdid my morning work out. My body is not happy with me. Oddly it is my butt that is complaining the loudest. Apparently one of the exercises I did was not kind to my posterior. I was somehow not expecting that. Anyway…On to the morning writing prompt.

Oh I love this one. Even the sore posterior can’t make me upset. I am so going to figure out the end to this story.

Tuesday, April 18^th: The string was blue.

The string was blue.  I knew it was blue.  I tied it there myself the day before.  I wanted to know if anyone but me checked the archives.  I didn’t think anyone would, but I thought it prudent to make certain. 

The blue string was gone.  A red string was in its place.  I didn’t stop to look at anything.  I turned and walked back down the hall to the elevator.  The archivist looked at me as I signed out.  After all I just signed in less than two minutes prior.  I smiled but did not offer an explanation.  I thought any excuse I gave would make me look like I was hiding something. 

I wasn’t hiding anything but myself.  If there was a red string attached to the place where I tied the blue string there was only one explanation.  ‘Someone is looking for me.’

I didn’t know what surprise was waiting in the shelves but I knew there would be one.  ‘Otherwise the string would still be blue. ‘

It was an old trick and I felt paranoid using it.  After all no one had been hunting me for a while.  I fell off everyone’s radar and ceased to be an issue.  There were bigger fish to fry, other larger concerns.  At least there had been.  As I pressed the button for the elevator, I wondered if that meant things changed. 

The doors dinged open almost immediately as I had just used the elevator to arrive.  I got in and pressed the button for the upper floor. I didn’t take it to the main floor but the floor above.  I would then take the stairs down and use an exit different from the one I used when I arrived.  If there had been usable stairs from the archives I would have taken them.  I hated feeling trapped in a box.  But the stairs were an emergency fire exit only. 

The elevator rose and I wondered what sort of trap was laid for me in the archive shelves.  That there was something was undeniable.  The string turned red. 

The elevator dinged and I stepped out.  I looked around to orient myself.  ‘Biography,’ I say.  ‘East facing.’

I nodded to myself.  The stairs were to my left.  I could take them and exit from the east side of the building without having to go through the main atrium.  I walked briskly as though I was eager to be on my way.  I passed no one and from where I was no one on the floors below could see me.  The West side was open and airy, the east faced a view less inspiring and the building was designed to feature the spectacular while turning its back to the mundane. 

I made it down the stairs and exited the library building.  From here there was a veritable maze of buildings.  Science labs, and maintenance sheds.  The sheds were for grounds keeping and tended to be built of blocky cinder block.  The science labs were built to create a controlled environment and were oddly enough structured along almost similar lines.  Often I had a hard time picking out which was storage and which was science.  For now, the maze helped me and let me get clear of the library.  With luck I could get home before anyone noticed.  If none of my home defenses were triggered I could get what I needed and be gone in less than ten minutes.