A fire escape, four stories high, from out of nowhere. It appeared in an abandoned cotton field in south Texas, its corners planted into the ground, pushed into the soil from the weight of the steel rods from which it was comprised. I saw it, and knew that I must investigate this curiosity. Four flights of stairs, towering above, the shadows a grid pattern across my face as I approached. Though it had just appeared, the steel was old, with patches of rust, flecks of chipped steel, and rails with dings and dents in them. I approached with caution, the dried cotton buds crunching beneath my sandals. I reached out to the railing expecting it to be scorching in the hot Texas sun, but it was cold, almost like ice, but it felt wonderful contrasting against my warm skin. I clutched the rail, and pulled my body on to the first step.
I remembered being four, climbing the ladder on a slide. One of the tall metal ones that you typically found in playgrounds in the 90’s, the kind that on a hot summer day become impossible to use because they become scorching hot, and can burn you. It was my first time climbing up a slide this high. I was excited because I had seen other children sliding down, and it seemed like they flew across the playground, landing in the sand that filled the playground, laughing, and rolling through the sand, kicking it up as they tumbled through. I got to the top and looked down, just in time to see the person in front of me flying what seemed like miles from the bottom of the slide. It was a popular slide, and there were kids behind me, already urging me to hurry up, despite my pause only being momentary. I finished climbing up, and sat at the top of the slide, afraid of getting hurt, afraid of what might happen when I hit the bottom. The height, the distance, it could hurt, what if I go too fast? The children were yelling at me to go. I closed my eyes to gather my courage, and felt a push on my lower back as I started to move.
My hand slid up the rail, the rough, cool feeling surprisingly relaxing as I took each step. With every step, the structure reverberated, as the sound of leather clapping against the metal rang out. I reached the first landing, and looked out onto the field. I could see the field that stretched so far, it felt like it went on forever. Then I continued upward.
I remembered stepping up the ladder to the high dive in my swimming class. I was seven at the time, and it was the final test to be allowed to swim in the deep part of the pool. There was the normal diving board, which was scary to me as it was, but I had jumped from there with little issue. The high dive for our pool, thinking back wasn’t incredibly high. It was next to the normal board, and was about three or four feet higher. I got to the top, practically crying I was so scared. I didn’t have the choice not to go now. All of the students in the class were lined up. Someone at the bottom of the ladder, someone at the end of the board. They jumped easily, and made a decent splash. I moved towards the end, carefully, timidly, afraid of the fall. I was so frightened I thought I was going to pee myself. Now it was definitely too late to turn back, there was someone behind me on the board. I looked around, trying to find some other way out that didn’t involve penetrating the deep waters of the pool. I was being yelled at for being afraid, holding other people back from finishing. I stepped all the way to the edge, and let my toes curl over the edge, to try to grip what I can, to get some sort of hold. I closed my eyes, about to jump, and felt a push as I fell forward, unseeing.
I made it up to the second landing, paused once again to look out, this time on the other side of the structure. I looked down and saw my shadow, stretched with that of the tower. I looked so tall like this. Like I was ten feet tall. Of course, the tower looked like it was over a hundred feet tall, as it stretched, like a plaid pillar of darkness across the field, a sundial almost, telling a time, but one nobody could understand. I shook my head, and continued up the stairs.
I remembered when I was fourteen. There was a tree in my front yard. It was a tall oak. I knew the trunk so well. I had tried so many times to climb it, but its lowest branches were too high. I knew a number of possible footholds, if I could just get my hands around the lowest branch. I was going to climb that tree. I jumped, and managed to get my hands around the branch, the bark digging into my skin. I swung my legs up to the footholds I had scouted out. They were a series of indentations in the tree, separated in a way that I could walk my torso up the trunk. I swung one of my legs over the branch I was holding on to, and inched my way around, slowly turning my body upright. I was finally in the tree. I moved around a bit on the branches, carefully, so as not to fall. I had pretty good balance, which I was proud of, so I did take a few risks, such as actually standing up, and walking on the thicker branches. the branches leading further up into the tree were thick and stable, so I explored the tree, moving higher and higher up. Then my mother called for me to come inside for dinner. I yelled back that I was coming, and started to shimmy down the branches. Then I got to the branch I climbed up on. I sat down on it, looking down at the far drop. It was seven or eight feet, and I started to panic. Below me were twisted and gnarled roots that came out of the ground. What if I hit them? What if my foot got caught in one as I hit the ground and rolled? I could twist or break my ankle, even if I just don’t land properly. My mother, being impatient, came back out, and saw me sitting in the tree started to freak out, demanding that I get out of there immediately. I knew I had to eventually, my mother started to walk towards me. I closed my eyes, to gather courage, and felt a pull on my leg as my body slid off the branch, pulled from under me.
I was at the top of the stairs. I looked out from the top all around me, and could see the edge of the field, on one side, there was forest, on the other, road, and between those two edges, more fields. The shadow of the stairs stretched even further, now seeming like a monolith, the grid pattern of the steel no longer distinguishable in the shadows, making it a solid mass of darkness. There was a cool breeze, and despite the time, and the hot sun, the rail was still cold to the touch. The top landing was small, with a gap in the railing where one would expect a window to be, or some sort of mechanical lift. I looked down, across the shadow, seeing my own shadow, like a flagpole on top of the tower, stretched thin from the waning sunlight. I looked behind me at the stairs I had climbed, stretching far down into what seemed to be infinity, a metal spiral marking my journey. The landing here was a solid sheet of steel. I took my sandals off, and placed my feet on the cool metal. I looked down into the field, and saw the dried up cotton plants, and the weeds and wondered what they thought about the staircase that had suddenly invaded their territory. I stepped to the very edge, and let my toes hang over, gripping the smooth steel surface. I closed my eyes. There were no questions, no worries, only curiosity and resolve.
I moved my foot, and stepped into darkness.