Slabs of concrete rose from the cracked pavement below. They bumped into each other, clumsily rearranging themselves until they formed a floating pathway. I carefully stepped out the window and onto the first slab. Each stone had a weakly designed symbol carved upon it, like it was the work of a child.

I followed the pathway as it wound through this strange, sleeping world. I passed the remains of a stone fortress, a charred forest and scraps of faded cloth that waved in a nonexistent breeze. The barren ground was marked by huge, gaping fissures, and it seemed to sink under the weight of the sky.

Was it always like this? I search my memories and a mixture of answers come to mind, each as unpleasant as the next.

Orange streaks of light cast themselves on the stepping stones. In the distance, a glowing ball of red peeked from beneath the horizon.

"Rise and shine," I murmured.

The words were meant for myself, a reminder to get up and get moving, but it was also a greeting to a new day. I had spoken without thinking. I kept an eye on my surroundings, half-expecting the world to stir awake. But the silence had swallowed my words. Even as the sky became a light grey, nothing moved. Everything remained quiet.

Then my foot slipped, and I cried as I tumbled onto the hard ground. For a moment I laid there, rubbing my aching shoulder as my cry echoed in the air, overlapping and repeating before gradually fading into silence.

A few feet away from me, the stepping stones hovered over a bright patch of blue. A carpet. I looked down at the cartoon dragons doing various things, reading books and drawing with crayons. It was something you'd find in a kindergarten classroom. So what was it doing here? I ran the tips of my fingers over the carpet. Unlike everything else, it was in perfect condition, if not a little worn.

My hand closed around something small and hard. A building block. A bunch of them were scattered around the carpet, and I spent a few minutes gathering them and putting them into a neat pile. Some pieces were haphazardly stacked together, to form the crude imitation of walls, towers, and bridges.

The next thing I knew, I was taking the blocks apart and putting them back together. It was an awkward process. My fingers were too big, and the blocks were tiny and delicate. Eventually I managed to construct something that resembled a castle. Then I began to make more.

I didn't know what I wanted to achieve, but the stepping stones had led me here for a reason. It felt like the right thing to do. No, it was the only thing I could do. And every time I finished another structure, a bridge or a castle or a mountain, a part of me felt more complete. It wasn't until I sat back and took in my new surroundings that I realized why I was doing this.

It wasn't a pretty sight. It wouldn't take your breath away or make you want to paint a picture of it. But as I watched the world start to rebuild itself, I knew that this was where I wanted to stay.

I got the stepping stone idea from a scene in The Twelve Dancing Princess, with - you guessed it - magical levitating stepping stones. Though I'd admit this piece is a bit dry in terms of prose...been suffering from a bit of burn out.

As always, do tell me your interpretations of this story. I'd love to hear them. 

Update: After receiving some feedback I'll be rewriting this story to make my message clearer. I don't think I'll make it in time before the next Weekend Write-In, so if any of you are interested in reading my rewrite please comment below and I'll tag you when the story is published. <3