Froelich's Ladder by Jamie Duclos-Yourdon

Author:Jamie Duclos-Yourdon [Duclos-Yourdon, Jamie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Forest Avenue Press
Published: 2016-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Were his predicament not so perilous, Froelich might’ve recommended the view: majestic trees rising from the Cascades and wildflowers blooming in swaths of indigo. Even his earache had subsided, though he’d have welcomed the pain to be back on the ladder. A day and night had passed in the ether, and thus far his efforts to reduce the cloud’s altitude (in order that he might plummet from a less injurious height) had been negligible; still, he continued to slough off a little at a time.

Ahead, the Pacific Ocean was growing noticeably larger. Borne along by the slipstream, his cloud was fast approaching the Oregon coast—too fast, he determined. Doing some quick calculations, he reasoned that, at his current rate, he’d be over water before he was low enough to jump. The force of impact would likely stop his heart, prior to being swallowed by the sea.

Meanwhile, up ahead and approaching at an alarming speed (or, rather, remaining perfectly still, while Froelich approached it), Fort Brogue remained invisible. All Froelich could see was a mass of clouds, and not the turret that they clung to.

When his cloud did finally merge with the herd, the impact was gentle; Froelich only knew he’d stopped when his insides lurched. It was a temporary reprieve, he knew. Soon, his cloud would disengage and continue its westward journey. At the same time, Froelich thought, here was a chance to improve his situation. What was the worst thing that could happen to him—he might be expelled and die a little sooner? Planting both of his hands on the cloud’s downy surface, he cautiously supported his weight.

“Farewell, my hungry friend,” he said, while crawling forth. “I’m glad not to have been your meal. In time, I hope you can flourish. But should you die, at least the weather will improve just a little.”

Lumped together and jostled by the breeze, the herd produced a curious noise. Too atonal to be mistaken for music, it seemed less the product of the individual clouds than that of friction caused between them. The sound most closely resembled wind chimes. How had he never heard this before? Hadn’t his research been thorough enough? If he did somehow survive this experience, Froelich vowed to share his discovery with the world, either by dictating his lithograph or alerting the proper authorities. A newspaper reporter might even be interested; Froelich would be a local celebrity. The act of planning for his future gave him hope.

Passing from one cloud to the next, he also observed a change in temperature. As he continued on his elbows and knees, careful not to compromise the gossamer surface, a window suddenly appeared in the mist. Froelich gaped at it. Without question, it was a window, replete with a frame and shutters. Had he possibly lost his mind? Even so, especially if so, shouldn’t he scamper through it, just to see what was on the other side? Presumably, anything he’d encounter would also be a product of his imagination. Nothing could hurt him that he hadn’t conceived of himself.

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