The Ladder

A sound rang through the hushed silence - snap. A foot was hanging in the air, where a rung of a ladder used to be. There was laughter from down below the feet where three kids, a boy and a girl, were standing and staring up. 

"Keep going Alana," urged the boy with curly hair and an arrogant face, "come on, we've all done it." 

Alana, whose hands were shaking, took a deep breath, looking upward at a tree the size of nothing she'd ever seen before. Above the wide, rough trunk was thousands and thousands of green leaves, blowing in an almost-wind - a breeze. Right at the top, nestled amongst the branches, was what looked like a haven. If only she could get to the stupid tree house. She hated heights and she hated being pressured, but she needed to prove to her new friends that she could do this. Not to mention that her mother had told her she would not allow her to spend the rest of her summer inside, and most importantly, alone.

So, with one more glance down to the ground, which seemed to be spinning out from underneath her feet, she delicately removed a hand and placed it on the next rung of the old, rickety ladder. This was definitely not safe, and definitely not how she planned to spend her afternoon. She could have been unpacking boxes, placing her things in unfamiliar shelves, in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar house. Instead, she was here, strengthening her relationships and broadening her horizons, as her mother would say.

"Stop hesitating," sighed the girl with pigtails on either side of her head as she looked up with a bored expression, "we don't have all day to wait for you to climb a measly old ladder."

Alana gulped as she extended the arm upwards and grabbed the next rung, her fingers turning white as they constricted around its circumference. Centuries seemed to pass before her feet followed suit. She estimated that it was around ten more rungs to the top - ten more rungs till she was immersed in such green. Green was always his favourite colour. That's why her mother would wear it so often. Well, wore.

One more rung, she thought, for him. Nine to go. Her heart was beating slowly, purposefully, the sound, almost like the pounding of a drum, deafening in her ears. It reminded Alana how alive she was. Why was she climbing this tree? For what benefit? Hers or theirs? Theirs. He wouldn't have wanted that. More importantly, she didn't want that. She was going to climb this ladder to prove to herself that she could. Up she went. Eight to go, seven, six, five, four, three, two...Alana hesitated again. What was this feeling? It was like she was being weighed down by something impossible, like the weight of everything that had happened over the past year was balanced on her shoulders, teetering her backwards. She thought she heard calling from below her and footsteps retracting in sound, but she didn't care.

One. More. Rung. Her mind was screaming but her heart was calm. She let out a breath, one she hadn't realised was being held in the depths of her chest, and she rose. Upwards. Almost immediately a breeze blew across her cheek, warm, comforting, loving.

"Dad?".