Higher

By Emily Grant

I climb higher.

Sweat drips off my forehead, and I look down. Bad choice. My vision blurs, and the clouds below me start spinning.

“Daylin!”

Shut up, Dexter. You’re going to make me fall off this cliff.

After I blink a few times, the clouds are still again. I look up the cliff, straight as an arrow, with no sign of a resting place anytime soon. There’s my brother a few yards up, in his black jumpsuit identical to mine. The parachute on my back weighs me down, but I find the next foothold and haul myself up yet again.

“Daylin! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say quietly, as if too much volume will knock me off the cliff face. “I just think that since… we’re in the clouds now… something should be happening.”

“The legend didn’t say how long we’d have to climb. Don’t give up!”

A passing bird cries in my ear. I flinch but keep my grip, thankful that my boots and gloves are designed to adhere to rock. One takes many precautions when climbing a cliff one can’t see the top of. Panting, I find the strength to pull myself up another few feet. Dexter waits for me to catch up.

“You okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah. If we stop, I won’t be, though.” I keep climbing. My eyes burn with the morbid desire to look down.

Just keep climbing. Higher. Higher.

“Remember what we’re shooting for, Day. It’ll be worth it.”

“Sure hope so.” I look around, careful to keep my gaze aimed up. “Have you ever missed color so much? Gray cliffs, white clouds…” I swallow, reminded that there are clouds around us. “Black jumpsuits…”

“Don’t worry. Up there, we’ll find gold, I’m sure of it.”

It’s not literal gold he refers to. But something. Something that will make this treacherous climb worth it.

“Remember that dream I told you about where I had wings and could fly?” Dexter says. “I sure could use those wings right now.”

“Remember that nightmare I had where I fell through a bridge into a canyon and died?”

He doesn’t respond. No elaboration needed.

“Dexter,” I huff. “Do you really… think it’s up there?”

“If I didn’t, would I be climbing this cliff right now with no rope and a secondhand parachute?”

Good point. “We’ve been climbing forever. How long will this take?”

Dexter gives a short laugh. “We’re looking for the stuff of dreams. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had to climb all the way to heaven.”

Every inch of my body aches. Doubt creeps in. “Sure is a big risk to take based on some old legend.”

“Climb the tallest cliff, and when the clouds are below you, you’ll find your dreams and see what they’re made of.” Dexter sighs like he does every time he recites those words.

“Yeah, but it’s just a legend. What if—”

What’s that noise? The powerful roaring, paired with a high-pitched undertone, sounds strangely familiar.

I turn to see the clouds behind me burst into flying tendrils, and from their midst a giant red monster barrels through the sky. My heart matches the rhythm of the behemoth’s wheels as they squeal and clatter over tracks that stretch right across the clouds. I’ve seen this before, once upon a nightmare-filled sleep. I know what comes next. All I can do is climb faster.

My screams meld with the train whistle. A horrible screeching behind me confirms what I’m already expecting: the train has come off its tracks and is heading straight for me.

Why am I moving so slowly?

Shaking, I lose my grip. Dexter yells my name. As I descend, the cloud below me transforms into a bridge with wooden slats yawning over nothingness beneath. I slip through the cracks.

I land face down on a cloud somewhere below and begin to sob.

“Daylin!”

I look up, still surrounded by clouds. Dexter runs toward me, billows of white rising up with every stride. Struggling to my knees, I fall into his arms and sob on his shoulder. “My worst dreams are… coming true… the train… the bridge…”

“I know,” Dexter whispers. “I saw mine, too. But not just nightmares; good ones, too! They’re gone now, but I had my wings! The ones I mentioned earlier? That’s how I got down here to you.” He pauses. “Don’t you get it?”

“What?” My voice cracks.

He dries my eyes with his thumbs and then looks up, around us. “This is it. We found it.”

I gasp. In my panic, I hadn’t even thought of it. “But these are… actual dreams. Not… hopes, ambitions.”

“But our dreams have come true just by finding this place, haven’t they? Remember what I said when we started? ‘Who knows what we’ll find?‘”

The clouds beside us begin to swirl, forming a staircase so tall I can’t see the top.

I look at Dexter, and the wonder in his eyes matches how I feel.

He helps me to my feet, and we gaze up the staircase. More dreams unfold around us, bad and good ones. I hold my hand out for a butterfly that I remember well from a pleasant dream not many nights ago. Its blue silk wings quiver as it prepares to land, but once it touches my hand, it disappears in a puff of cloud.

Dexter takes my hand, and I squeeze his. “Ready to find out what dreams are made of?”

I smile and nod.

And so we climb higher.

Can you guess which song from the 1980's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Grant doesn’t remember the first time she wrote a story, but she’s never looked back. Though her main focus is on novels- mostly fantasy- Havok recently helped draw her back into the wonderful world of short fiction. She loves coffee, rainy days, superheroes, and candles, and while she currently lives in Missouri, she hopes to somehow live in the Shire one day.

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