Swinging back and forth, arms and back aching. It doesn’t seem possible to be so high up, soaring above the ground like the birds, the only thing keeping you from plummeting to the earth being the two ropes connected to a harness strapped around you and across your chest. You sigh, taking in the beauty. You’re halfway up. You just have about an hour left to climb and you’ll be at the top.
   You plant your feet on a narrow ledge, barely big enough to fit your toes. Your hands find a firm grip hold a foot higher. You begin to climb again, the rope tightening as you climb higher. You glance to your left, watching your father climb with ease. He’s so good. You wish you could be climbing as well as he is, leaping like a mountain goat up the straight cliff. Keeping you hand firmly latched onto your hand hold, you wipe the beads of perspiration that have congregated, glistening on your forehead. It’s hot!
   Suddenly, a gust of wind rips through the valley grabbing your rope and flinging you to the side. Panic. The ledge above juts out and you’ve just been thrown to the other side of it. You’re dangling again, but this time, your rope isn’t going to continue to tighten as you pull yourself up. It’s loose, sticking on something. You’re going to have to climb up the rest of the way without your safety. One wrong foot placement, one wrong ledge your hand grabs and you could go down, smashing into the face of the cliff.
   Dad’s calling. You can’t see him and you know he can’t get to you. You yell, assuring him that you’re fine but you can tell he’s worried. Frankly, you’re worried too. But you just have to get to the top. Get to the top and everything will be fine. Taking a shaky breath, you find good holds and slowly start to climb. You’re shaking from the exertion, you’re muscles in overdrive, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You test every hold before you put your full weight on it, climbing cautiously. At one point, you’re left foot slips, sending rocks rolling and tumbling down to the ground far below, kicking up little billows of dust as they go. Your heart is racing and you try to steady your shaking hands.
   The other problem is, now that your rope is slack, you have to continue to wind that around yourself so you don’t trip over it of get tangled up in it. Suddenly, your guide rope makes a cracking sound as you lean to the side. You look up in terror. It’s stuck between two razor sharp rocks and they are cutting away at your rope! You still have a good fifty feet to climb and the top part juts out a little, meaning you’re going to have to climb up like you used to climb the monkey bars at school. You almost want to cry, you’re so scared. Only one rope is your security from certain death, and even then it isn’t a full security. It wouldn’t stop you from smashing into the face of the cliff. Your hope is hanging by a thread.
   Climbing, climbing, climbing, being careful not to step in the wrong place. Your entire body is shaking. If you live to tell the story, man will it be a story.
   Then, there’s your dad! You have never been so happy to see someone in your life. He’s made it to the top and he says he’s going to pull you up. A savior at last. You let out a shaky breath. Your nightmare is almost over. In a few minutes, you’ll be standing on solid ground.
   Wait, what is he doing?!? You watch in horror as your father begins to pull at the other rope…and as the sharp teeth of the rocks bite into the rope’s flesh, into the thread of your last hope. You scream, shouting for him to stop. Shouting with all your might as you watch you watch the rope fray. Time seems to go by slowly. It’s like your life has been put into slow motion. One last scream…
   And you’re falling. Falling away to the earth. You hear cries coming from somewhere. Or maybe they’re screams. You hear someone calling your name but you can’t tell where it’s coming from. You are soaring like the birds in the sky, taking in the beauty of the earth. Death gathers you in his arms and you soar ever higher, higher than even the tallest cliff in the world.