(prompt: 'odd' 13/9/2019)

Strangely, it wasn't even slightly odd to her that she was flying now. It only seemed odd it had taken her so long to recognise all she had to do was flap her arms. Not vigorously, as she may have imagined... IF she had imagined anything of the sort. No. This was a comfortably flowing action. Of course, the umbrella helped more than a little. One of Mary Poppins' cast-offs, maybe? And she chuckled. And ran through a few other flying type names for her new airy self, and chuckled even louder. She rejected a few - like Flighty Flossie, and Fleur de Flight, and even came back to Flossie, with a humorous passing thought - A flighty Flossie gathers no Mossie. She giggled out loud, but still rejected it. Her drifting slowed considerably as she contemplated Florida. But... Florida sounds horrider, she thought and then suddenly all was clear. Floreda - pronounced Flooreeda! That's IT! And was instantly uplifted by her choice.

Sailing ever upwards, Floreda passed a veritable swarm of hot air balloons as far as the eye could see, drifting in their lazy, lyrical, floaty way. She passed them and next discovered she was looking down on them. Misty clouds tickled her feet, causing them to curl as she daintily lifted her legs and pointed her toes. That too, was a miracle of sorts. Previously dampened in reality - never in spirit - she now had the ability to bend and flex legs and arms in elegant and awesome ballet-style. "Why... I'm a prima donna of the highest order," she said out loud. And then giggled, thinking - highest in more ways than one. And she marvelled at the view of the land beneath her. A thicker mist draped the valleys, leaving the tree-topped hills to emerge almost eerily in long snaking rows. Sometimes a thicket of trees atop small hillocks appeared to tower above all else. And the growing light from the still hidden sun gently tinted the mist a soft cream. Floreda smiled from high above. Misty mornings almost always signalled gorgeous days.

She turned her eyes heavenward, expecting exquisite deepest blue stretching forever... and was so shocked, she nearly lost her bubble of buoyancy. Above Floreda was no sky. Instead there was a ceiling that was a city street! An upside down city street. And the rising sun was flooding the impossibly reversed scene with near-blinding light. People hurried along the pavement; cars stopped and beeped and moved forward again along a street flanked by tall buildings. A few chosen cars flew like Floreda, some upside down, some downside up. Their glittering windows reflected in the multi-paned glass castles of buildings.

Impossible! And yet... maybe? The flashing signal from atop the tallest building alternated some reading (uhrr, not temperature...135 somethings?), and a date told her 2050. Floreda's feeling of the oddness of the situation eased into near-acceptance as the words of a favourite song from her yesterday echoed in her mind -

Upover, Downunder, Sideways too.

Nothing can stop an angel like you.

The dedicated dolly with the magical brolly,

To doubt yourself now would be the worst folly.

In the lap of the gods, against all the odds,

Think you can fly? It's all up to you.