Downloaded

I was bothering no-one, surfing the poetry website, couching my criticisms in cool reflection, after all; did I really want to be a critic? I was looking for that lustre in style, the dry turn of phrase which opens one's musical ear, a trip, a song...I collapsed the window.

Then, suddenly, I saw it. An elf on the computer screen. It was hiding behind my hard drive desktop icon, peeping out at me. I clicked on the icon and the window jumped out. The elf leapt away and caught hold of the end of the collapsed internet window bar, which opened full screen, causing the frantic imp to topple. It was tiny, but agile, and, twisting mid-pixel, it reached out desperately with its little arms. It caught hold of a corner of the printer icon, as it fell. The screen began to fill with clones of the icon, one by one in straight rows.
When the page had filled with printer icons, I closed it.
The elf, meanwhile, had landed on 'documents', It looked up at me, sharply, and stomped its foot on the icon. As the file opened, the elf jumped into it. It opened my poems folder and hopped in.
It opened a poem. I closed it. Not that one. The elf frowned at me, tapping its curly shoed foot on the page. It produced a sparkling wand from nowhere and described a circle with it, fixing me with its eye all the while and chanting in a barely perceptible unknown tongue. To my amazement, a circlet of lights sprang around me, where I sat before the monitor. The elf began to dance and prance and the lights in the circle started to revolve around me, slowly
at first, then faster until, made dizzy by their flashing brilliance, I swooned and lost touch. Just for a moment, no more, a split second blackout, but, when I came to, I found myself in another world.
The elf was not to be seen. I was sitting up on a white plain, which stretched away into the distance wherever I looked. Glancing to my rear I saw a wall, quite far away. It was more a smooth, grey ridge on reflection, running from horizon to horizon. I stood up and began to walk toward it. As I walked I became aware of what had happened. I passed, on my left, a document icon of the area of a tomb whose title, (when I could make it out by walking off and crouching into a line of better vision), was familiar. I had been transported into my poetry folder.
I resumed my trek toward what I now knew to be the frame of the documents file window, perhaps with a vague hope of being able to scale it and escape through somehow gaining entry to the hard drive. But if I could find a way to shut down, what would become of me?
I might become disintegrated. This thought was put aside when I came close to the frame. I could not climb that ridge. It was smooth and taller than I. No way out. Then it occured to me to walk along the edge of the ditch and find the scroll slider which, of course, ran in it. But there was no slider over which to walk to freedom. The page was complete, devoid of sliders.
I had arrived at the top right corner of the document window and sat down to rest. It might be possible, through persistent leaps, to get a hold on the title bar and scramble up. But I could not do it, collapsing again and again at the foot of the frame edge after the leap and inevitable slide down the wall.
I thought I might have more luck if I walked south to the bottom corner of the window, where scroll arrows met. Maybe I could...I was distracted by the sight of an internet document icon on my right, and a new plan sprang into being! I jumped with both feet onto the internet icon, and saw, at that moment, the elf, some way off, running toward me, lickety split. As the document window opened, I hurled myself aboard. The window flew wide and spun my helpless body along its expanding surface like a mountain climber tumbling down a steep snow slope.
At last it came to rest with a silent thump and I could stand, unsteadily. I looked around keenly, hoping the elf had been unable to jump on before the opening file had covered the window of the folder which contained it. It had not and so must be confined on the page below, but for how long?
I realised I had wound up against the frame edge. There was a scroll slider nearby and I clambered across to the outer frame edge. What I saw, when I looked over, made me laugh.
A chasm of blue yawned beneath. Had I thought I might walk, or maybe swim, across to the hard drive icon? And what then, moreover? If I could open the hard drive window, I might be able to use Sherlock to help me escape. It would be somewhere to start. I sat looking along the file of desktop icons, a flotilla in line, ending way downscreen, then turned  and, sliding back across, headed into the body of the internet document.
I think the elf may have tried to pursue me further but, thus far I have eluded him. I was able to open windows from my scrapbook, avenues leading off into the farthest reaches of the web.
Sometimes I spend the night in someone's little blog page or I may wander virtual museums and galleries. Somewhere in here is the key to my escape, to my eventual uploading.