Brayden panted as he climbed to heaven. The icy white moon beamed down on the valley illuminating his path up the Staats Block Tower. The tower, formerly an art deco icon of industry in the small valley city had long since become an abandoned husk, and had been calling to Brayden for years. One foot in front of the other, moving slowly up the ladder. The physical exertion wasn't the issue. Brayden was fit enough, having played all 4 years in his miniscule 2A high school soccer league. What made the task so difficult was the precarious sway of the ancient metal, more rust than iron. He'd already put a foot through the grating on the third floor, and snapped a bolt as he neared the 5th. He could feel the metal shudder as a particularly strong wind swept through the narrow valley. He took in a sharp breath, and grit his teeth.
"shit."
He glanced down the 6 stories beneath him, to the recently fenced in dirt courtyard. Trucks, massive boxes of wood and steel were lined rank and row. The door light of the foreman's trailer still lit the bare earth. It was the construction that forced his hand at last, and the sign above that'd given him his goal. He turned his gaze up to the clear sky. Above him, only 1 ladder remained, and then the scramble over the top of the building onto the roof. He tied his hoodie tighter, and trembling, plodded up to the final platform.
Heaven was so near, but now he had to leap for the ridge, and scramble over. The escape window was already broken, and boarded up with plywood, and a few sturdy shoves proved the work to be sturdy enough to require more effort than he was willing to risk on the creaking platform. That left only one option. He looked up. The fire escape didn't go to the roof, and the eaves jutted out nearly as far as the iron platform hanging from the wall. Steeling himself, he panted as he put one foot on the lowest of the platforms border railing. He hoisted himself up, swung a hand at the brick eaves, missed and fell back to the grating with a clang, and the sound of wrenching steel. His heart stopped. A pop from somewhere close beneath him cut through the dark silence of the night. And then the silence returned, only to be broken again by Braydens sudden gasping, and panting. He lay on the platform long enough for the bite of the cold metal to seep past his clothes, and at with a deep Breath Brayden found the will to rise. He looked up again.
So Close.
Cold as he was, surely any second attempt would be even riskier, he might not even have the strength to pull himself up. His numb wooden fingers would fail, and he'd fall back, flipping over the guard rail and tumbling 7 stories to the cold earth. The construction crew would find his jellied body tomorrow, and the local papers would run his dork ass senior photo on the front page. Condescending old bastards would talk about how they always knew he was a troubled youth, and not-so-subtly point out how they foresaw his untimely, and tragic, demise for years. He'd become a cautionary tail, and an urban legend for the next generation of school kids. Someone would tag a building and they'd whisper rumors of Brayden's ghost still marking the old town.
Or he could climb back down...
He looked down. His heart settled. Safety. Comfort. Life. He had plans to finally get out of this shithole town. No use risking it for a childish goal.
"Fuck it." Brayden hissed.
Reach heaven or become an angel. He wasn't sure if big city graffiti culture would ever know his name. This small town sure as hell didn't understand what he was doing, but he didn't care. slowly, he planted one foot on the top bar of the guard rail, then the other. With a leap he caught air time, desperately threw his hands over the brick eaves, and found purchase. He'd never performed a pull up faster in his entire life, and started to cackle manically as he rolled over onto dirty tar roof. He let out a whoop into the night, no longer worried about being caught. If he could survive this, what could police do?
Slowly, rising to his feet, he turned his attention to the metal spire atop a brick tower in the center of the building, and the brilliantly illuminated sign above. Future HQ: P&R of Woodpine Valley
The heaven spot. The metal tower was still solid, if rusty, having been semi-regularly used for advertisement in the past, and while the narrow platform in front of the sign was without guard rail, the 15 foot drop seemed miniscule compared to the death defying leap he'd just risked. Adrenaline carried Brayden up the wall, the tower, and the sign. He sluffed his repurposed school pack from his back. Withdrew the cans of paint, and marked his throwup dead center over the "P&R".
The stylized "Bray" was beyond recognition, but before long The old Staats Block tower was marked as his own Future HQ.
He hopped back to the roof, looked up at the illuminated sign, and laughed.
