SCP-8257

Going up and up and up and …

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Do you like heights?

I always have. The mountains are invariably beautiful, but never more so than when you are viewing them from way up high. There is not a more breathtaking sight in the world, and I don't say that merely because of the thin air.

Always such a shame when the mist blocks it. The rattling of the cable car isn't always pleasant, either. Can't I just enjoy my way up in peace?

Yet, as I creep up and up, the vertigo keeps getting worse and worse. It's odd to say that, cause I've never had vertigo before, but I think that's what this is. My ears ache, and there's no direction but up.

I like the gondolas around here, always have, but I've never had one go up for this long.

I've seen the day and night turn a hundred times by now. I can't see the sun or moon—not through this mist—but I can tell when it gets dark. The things outside get needy then. They sound hungry, but I have nothing to feed them. Don't they know I'm hungry too?

Hungry and sick. Sick of this.

They do not count as company anyway. Not that solitude has ever bothered me in the past, but when the air keeps getting thinner, and when the cold brume creeps through the only crack you left in the cable car, it reminds me that this ascent has stolen all the freedom I have ever enjoyed.

If anyone's listening, I would like off this ride, please. It is not right to leave me here.

No matter how much I dread the summit and the conclusion it might bring, I cannot bear an infinite climb, forever reaching for it through an uncaring and famished aether.


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