In the desert, far beyond real, you stand at the Precipice. Around you stands a thousand boulders, sharp like mountains, grey and capped in a bloody snow. The sky above is clear, awash in the light of the Sun, and the dirt below you dry and ragged; the air is hot, and there is no breeze. You surveil your surroundings, and there is no way out. You wonder how you got there; it is all a blur. Your racing heart obscures your sight, but rest assured, the dust in the air is playing its part. There is no way out, except up.
It is time to make the climb.
It takes you a long while to make the first rise. The rock is smooth here, and not easy to grip, but it is easy to fall back into the dust. You’re already wary of this climb, though. You know the consequences of falling, and the higher you go, the more the boulders run sharp, and the more the safety of the dust fades away. With every inch you climb, tears run from your face. Your legs already feel like jelly, and in the back of your kind every racing anger calls to you, begging you to stop. Wait. Rest a while. But you keep going don't you?
Before you knew it, you reached the first outcrop. It’s never too bad, in hindsight at least.
You've been stopped there a while, letting your muscles recover. Your mind wanders in the heat. You remember how it began. You lost your job; it wasn't your fault. They lied to you. Told you they were there for you. They were lying. But you didn’t know. You came home, and found a new home in a bottle of beer. That terrified you. You were just like your parents.
Seems we’re alike, you and I.
It wasn’t long before that comfort was gone. As you watched the suds dry on the wall, and the ants come explore the shards of brown glass, you weighed your options. You only had so much money left. You could stay there, pay rent and hope something comes through. Or you could eat, and hope something comes through. It was the first time your racing heart consumed your soul.
Don’t worry, I've been there too. Don’t think it gets better.
Looks like you started climbing again. You're catching up to me fast, but you have a ways to go. I’m sure you’ll fall soon. We all do. But the rocks here are better, at least. A lot more opportunities to get some small footing. But you have to be careful, and slow. The rocks can come loose and…ah! You see? You went too fast. But good on you, you caught yourself. That scrape, however, is something you'll have to deal with, lest you add another stain to the boulders below. Do you climb down? Or do you…ah. You keep going. Cheeky!
What on earth is driving you?
One could trace the path you took up the Precipice, your blood though dry still glistened somehow in the light. But now you were here. You cannot see me, but we have made it this far, separate, but perhaps together in some respect. It is this place where we cannot climb any further; not yet. It seems you realize this too. You prop yourself against the wall, and look out to the empty horizon.
Your mind wanders again.
You were just a child, and it was summertime. They had just finished our pool, and Dad wanted to celebrate. Pool parties are nice, until you realize its all old people there. Nobody your age to come around, not that we had any friends. But it was still nice out there. The pool was warm, and the concretes jagged surface felt like heaven to our feet. The breeze was tempered just enough by the fence and the screen and the grill, it felt like the breath of angels, and not a single napkin went flying. I could spend days in that moment, years even. Might you…wait..
What’re you doing?
You started climbing again. You're passing out of my sight, you’re moving so fast. I wish I could see what you see, so I could follow. But I can’t…
Some time later, you finally make it to the edge. The Climb is almost over, the Precipice stands below you. You reach out to the edge and grasp it firmly. But you hesitate; weighing the gravity of the earth. You let yourself feel the weight if yourself, and slowly, unthinking, you let your body go limp. Little by little, you give yourself over to the mercy of the world. Soon, you’re dangling from the edge, and only your hand, gripped tight to the rock, is keeping you aloft. I still can’t see you.
But in your mind, some part of you contemplates letting go. Returning to the dust where your heart was at ease, it was a thought I’ve faced many times, and yet you too hear its call, even as you dangle there. All you need do is pull yourself up, and the nightmare is over.
But I don’t know if you decided to keep going, or if you decided to fall.
Do you?
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from Short Stories
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