The Place Above the Clouds | Teen Ink

The Place Above the Clouds

October 12, 2023
By imsydn3y_c BRONZE, Sleepy Hollow, New York
imsydn3y_c BRONZE, Sleepy Hollow, New York
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

There’s a place above the clouds, someplace where there’s always music to dance to, people to talk to, passions to be fulfilled, and joy to go around. There’s peace there. It’s noisy, but it’s the good kind of noise–not the noise from the echoes of gunfire, the banging of weapons, and the screams of the killed and those who mourn for them. It’s the sound of happiness.

I would like to go to this place, the Place Above the Clouds. Take me away from this world and lead me home… 


I lie on the grass and admire the sky. Blotches of white fill the blue canvas and the sun kisses the horizon, painting endless streaks of pink and orange. A flute’s sweet melody floats in the light breeze. With every passing note, I imagine myself sinking into the grass, being overcome by my senses. I close my eyes and tilt my face to the sun.

I had to drive several towns over in order to see this bright sky and rid my ears of mayhem. It took me two hours, but I’d do it a million times over to get away from the massacres that murder my home.

This is what the Place Above the Clouds must feel like: cozy, warm, happy. It’s nice to escape war and relax here from time to time, despite knowing my stays are despairingly short due to my responsibilities. As a soldier, I’m tied to battle like a dog on a leash. I can only go as far as I’m permitted to and whenever I manage to stumble away, I’m yanked back by the rope that claims my freedom. My fellow soldiers are likely searching for me now, eager to retrieve and discipline me for stealing the leash from war’s grasp.

 There will never be an escape from the chaos. The war will soon hit this town and destroy the little bubble of civilization. The only thing I can do now is wait and try to bear whatever happens next.

I sit up and take in my surroundings. The park is sprinkled with children playing tag, parents chattering away, grandparents on a stroll, and couples on picnics. The scene is the epitome of serenity; the perfect display of families simply having fun. 

A feeling so foreign to me now. Like a distant memory.

They’re enjoying themselves freely, completely unaware of the rampant bloodshed just two hours away. If I didn’t know their world was going to be turned upside down crushingly soon, their positive demeanors would be contagious.

The field of grass is surrounded by a forest with unusually tall trees. One tree is so tall that I can’t see where it ends. I can only see its long and thick trunk, swirling like a staircase into the sky and above the clouds. What a massive, beautiful tree.

It’s silly to even consider this, but maybe this is a route to the Place Above the Clouds. My father said he wasn’t sure either, but he knew that all kind, good people go. I had clung onto this tidbit of consolation when my sister and mother passed in crossfire. I’ve continued to comfort myself with this every time a comrade or a family member was killed. 

Perhaps it’s time I join them and give someone else the chance to say the same for me. That way, I’ll never have to see this park and forest be decimated and turned into a graveyard.

My legs carry me toward the tree before I tell them to run. I sprint faster than ever before, my pace increasing the closer I become. I’m completely drawn to the tree, as if it and I were the opposite poles of a magnet. A blend of trepidation and elation courses through my veins. When I arrive at the tree, I waste no time and climb it as recklessly and fervently as a child. I wrap myself around the trunk and use my arms to thrust myself upwards while using my legs for support.

I climb higher and higher. The air feels thinner. My heart leaps with excitement. I’m finally going to be closer to them. I won’t be alone in this wretched world anymore.

My left hand loses its grip.

And then my other hand. And then my legs and feet. My body peels off the trunk and I drop at a terrifying speed. The low howl of the wind evolves into a screeching whistle, and the forceful gusts attempt to fight me but I slice through them easily.

I must have been tens of feet in the air because I fall for a long time before I’m in the Place Above the Clouds.



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