a high place | Teen Ink

a high place

February 6, 2012
By babydagon14 BRONZE, Antwerp, New York
babydagon14 BRONZE, Antwerp, New York
2 articles 0 photos 1 comment

I begin my assent up the stairs. I run up the circular path that never seems to end. The path becomes a time portal, going back to place untouched by the awful renovations. I place me hands on the crumbling bricks that were to my sides. Further and further, I climb; the walls grow older and older. The darkness of the path disappears, as small holes in the walls grow larger and more proliferating. You can see the small dust particles floating gently through the air.

I know I am close to the top, the sound of birds singing is growing clear. I take my hands of the wall and dash for the door that I know is just ahead. I reach the door and pause for a moment. I take a deep breath knowing the feeling that will come over me once I'm on the other side.

Finally, I open the small wooden door, held together only by cast iron bolts and latches. I walk out into the light that was so bright and pure; my eyes have to take a moment to adjust. I stop, willing myself to take in everything around me. I take a deep breath, inhaling air that is almost free of the pollution found on the ground. I open my ears to hear the wind whistle through, causing the word to creak, and the leaves of the trees around me to rustle. I look around, trying to absorb all the colors, many of which I cannot name. Every thing in this place is perfect. I search for words to describe the scene, and like many times before, the only word that comes to mind is awe.

I want to sit and rest, but I know my journey is not complete. I run for the other side. Before I reach it, I stop in the center, at a large bell. I place my hand on the cold metal and instantly fell the cold spread through my hand. I am careful because I do not want to move it and make my presence known, even though with its size and my strength, the possibility is very unlikely. For a moment, I let my mind wander and I picture the power this bell had. The ability to summon all the towns people with one ring, for many a good and bad time.

I snap back to reality and decide that I must hurry if I want to be in place by the time dusk comes. I touch my lips to the bell as a farewell until I return.

I head for the wall with a branch hanging over. The birds take notice and fly off, taking their song with them, for a quick moment. I jump on the branch, noting the worn spots, where my feet were placed many times because it was a perfect place to start a climb. I slide myself towards the tree trunk, where the braches are thick and strong. Once in place, I begin to climb. The feel of the old wood scratches against my skin and the scent of wood and age are overwhelming. The tree is a perfect show of strength and perfection.

Finally, I reach my perch and take careful notice to my positioning. At this height, the wind is fierce, but I had already learned to keep my balance, for truly everything now is a matter of life or death. I look around and see the purity of the world. The way everything should be. I look down, happy to see the chaos below in a complete blur. I continue to look, in complete delight, and then I see it. There he is standing on the ground, clear as day, and he is starring back up at me. He knows I'm here.

The author's comments:
a piece done for creative writing... just the beggining of a larger story

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