By Dylan Sands
He had been climbing for hours, yet nothing seemed to change. The coarse rocks scraped at his fingers. His raw grasp pulled him up the sharp ledges. It was getting warmer, but he could still feel the crisp pull of the depth below him. It was an inviting feeling, it beckoned for him. It called his name and told him to rest. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea, he had to keep escalating. He didn’t know how he got so far into the cave; all he knew was that he could rest no more.
His hand reached higher, this time to a sharper ledge around 3 feet above the previous layer. He pulled himself up and fell flat on his back. The higher he climbed, the taller the ledges were getting. He could hear water trickling down just past his left ear. His head turned sharply, sending a pain down his back. He pulled his tattered body over to the stream, pausing to marvel in the sound of his discovery. He reached out his right hand, covering his fingers in the cold tears of the earth. The spring ran into his cuts and doused them in a cool and refreshing blanket of calm. With his face and hands washed, and his thirst quenched, he pushed on. Standing up tall and carrying himself atop the ledge above. It wasn’t as dark anymore, and he felt a rush of energy filling his body. Using his fingertips, he brushed along the wall in front of him, locating the hand holds he could use to climb up. He reached as high as he could, but he was incapable of finding the ledge above him. He had to put all of his faith in his memory of the wall if he was going to make it to the next resting place.
With a deep breath, he put his faith in the footholds he brushed across. He heaved himself up, each step taking more and more out of him. He finally located what he thought was a larger ledge, this time resting 8 feet above the previous one. Using all his strength, he reached up and grabbed it with both hands. The rock was cold and damp, causing his body to physically recoil. His right hand began to lose its grip, on the verge of escaping, he lost his grip and fell down below. He landed hard on his back, letting out a sharp cry and a grunt. Ironically enough, he heard it again, that trickle of hope, the spring of life running by his left ear. He had landed on his arm, and could not move it without a strong pulse of pain running through his spine. Pushing on was the only option. Beginning the ascent again, he prepared his hands for the condition above. Up he pulled, making sure he brought his whole body above the ledge, using his torso as leverage to swing his legs up above.
The next wall above him was flat, and he felt no way of climbing it. The reach of his fingers revealed no secrets above either. He felt hot, running low on energy, and exhausted to the point of tears. He scanned the wall, running his hands along it horizontally, with every bump leaving a stab of pain in his raw flesh.
As he got further along the right side, it became warmer. The rising temperature intrigued him, causing him to climb along further. Each sidestep led him further into the embrace of warmth. He hit a wall, but his legs did not. There was a glint of light coming from below as well, almost as an open invitation. He got down on all fours and looked through the peephole. The brightness stung his eyes and caused him to wince in pain. He hadn’t seen light like this in longer than he can remember, and it filled him with a surge of energy.
The cold was no longer reaching for his legs. He pushed on the wall, and nothing happened. He sat there for a minute or two, building up his energy. Using his legs, he slammed the thin segment of wall as hard as he could, causing more light to splinter along the rough section of rock. Harder and harder he kicked, after a solid few minutes, it finally gave way. He scurried through as quickly as he could, eager to reach the safety of light again. Looking up, his eyes could hardly adjust to the sight. The cave was wider now, with healthy vines crawling along the sides. Water dripped from the ceiling, landing on his nose. A stream ran across the ground only a few feet above him. He went further up the incline, becoming less steep the higher he went. The stream was beautiful, a break of cold inside of the warm holding of the interior of the rocks. He wondered if this was the same spring that he had come across earlier. Something made him stop inspecting the water. A sweet sound filled the calloused room as birds began to sing from the exterior. It reached the corners of the room, bouncing around and giving life to everything inside. He rushed to the exit, attempting to reach the source of the sound as quickly as possible. He was full of determination now, running through his veins and all across his body. He looked down and fumbled over his steps. His boot came down, barely missing a beautiful pink flower that was sprouting from between the plates of rock. He picked it and gave it a sniff, reminding him of the safety above. Putting the flower in his pocket, he pursued the exit. Finally reaching the outside, he fell over in a huff. His rest began in the bed of similarly colored flowers, an earthly bed that gave him a rest that he had not felt in ages.
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