Sun Spots (short story collection)

The Experiment

 (Author's Note - Written for Day 22 of AimtoEngage 2020 - prompt "Yesterday upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there." Word count 489 not counting this note)

Alice hurried up the stairs to the attic the minute she got home from school. She could hardly wait to see the results of her latest experiment. If everything had gone well, Maurice should now be a beautiful pink colour, like a tiny ball of fairy floss.

With trembling fingers, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, then hurried across to the table. The dark waxed cloth was still in place, carefully draped to exclude all light from penetrating the cube-shaped object below.

She twitched the cloth away and stared eagerly into the glass tank. The tiny food bowl was still in place, a few brown crumbs in the bottom and the saucer of water remained where she had placed it, but of Maurice the mouse, there was no sign. Drat! How on earth had he got out?

Alice took the lid off the glass container and peered inside, even though it was obvious there was no place for a mouse to hide.

"Maurice? Maurice!" She called his name as she searched the room but to no avail.

Bother! She would have to get another mouse from the school laboratory and do the whole experiment again. Lucky she still had some of the formula left, though not much. Still, waste not, want not. She picked up tiny food bowl and was just tipping the remaining contents into the jar of formula, when she felt like something ran across her bare arm.

Alice jumped and almost dropped the jar. What was that?

Must have been a draught.

Well there was no point staying up here now that Maurice was gone. And she hadn't had her after school snack yet. She went out of the attic and down the stairs to the kitchen, not realising she still had the jar in one hand until she reached for the chocolate biscuits. She put it on the counter and shook two biscuits out of the packet.

"Alice! Have you started your homework yet?" Her Dad's voice came from the bath room. He was on split shifts this week and was on his way to bed for a nap.

"I'm just about to start now, Dad," called Alice, taking a third biscuit with her as she went upstairs to her room.

Alice woke to the sound of her Dad knocking on her door. "Time to get up, sleepyhead. It's seven o'clock! And do you know what happened to the coffee? The last cup tasted awful!"

"No... it was fine when I had one yesterday," answered Alice, yawning.

And then she remembered. She had left her formula in the kitchen last night, stored in an old Moccona jar. What if-?

She leapt out of bed and hastily pulled on her dressing gown.

"Are you all right, Dad?" she asked anxiously. If his hair had turned pink, he would kill her.

But there was no-one in the passage, just the creak of the floorboards.

"Dad?"