I’ve explored all the nooks of the castle and most of the hard-to-reach places that are not cordoned off with red rope. I’ve rubbed flaky stone bricks to my childish satisfaction and rolled my eyes over brown information panels about lords and ladies who used to summer here, at least until the Scots laid siege.
Now I just want a choc ice and maybe some tin knight figurines if the giftshop has any. I wipe the dust off my hands with the hem of my blue raincoat and heave a teenage sigh as I approach the wooden steps back down to the courtyard.
The first step is fine though I’m not a fan of the hollow clunk my heel makes against the surface. The second step irritates with its slippery grit. The third step is so uneven that my foot just slides right off, taking the rest of me with it.
I lose my grip of the handrail and tumble down the relatively short distance to the cold cobblestones below. However, before I reach it, my lower back collides with the last two steps.
An almighty gasp escapes me, leaving a curious throat rasp in its wake. I breathe in wet sawdust through my nose but cannot seem to breathe anything out through my wide-open mouth. When I try to speak, all that comes out is a pathetic guttural noise. My sister rushes over to me but I cannot answer her incessant questions about if I’m feeling OK after my fall. I’m out of air and am having immense difficulty figuring out how to draw any back into my lungs.
Absurd as it may seem, I haven’t been winded before today. If only my first experience of it wasn’t in some damp and dreary castle ruin. The fusty stench at the foot of these incompetently carved steps provides enough incentive for me to rise up and cough till my body feels capable of taking in fresh air again. Anything to get away from that clammy embarrassment.
With my sister’s encouraging hand on my sore back, I move clear of those bloody awful steps and head out towards the giftshop. As well as offering tin knights and choc ices, it has a padded bench under central heating. Putting one oxygen-deprived foot in front of the other, I steadily catch the rest of my breath and, eventually, a little dignity.
Out of Air is a piece from Lucy’s Workshop on Air 22-06-2022.
Huddersfield Authors Circle 
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