Cloudland

Earthbound

The silence was perfect and complete. No sound intruded on Marianne’s exquisite moment as she glided effortlessly in the bright sunshine.  Some time ago, she had seen the tip of the Eiger pushing though the cloud, but now it was nothing but a pure white landscape of turbulent vapour.

She had been correct. Although the helium balloon above her head had not been enough to lift her from the valley floor, after a climb of 2,000 metres of shifting mountain track in a rusty old Landrover had thinned the atmosphere enough for her to be able to rise gracefully away from solid earth and the life she wished to leave behind. Up here there were no cars, no houses, no taxes or jobs. There weren’t even any birds, just a slowly churning mass of brilliant white, rolling under dazzling azure.

There was no history here. It entered her mind as part of the unspoken dialogue between her and space, to which she was ever creeping nearer. No history… nothing to hold on to, no pain and no fear. How had she forgotten how life really was? She laughed to herself at her folly. Years of playing games with strangers and friends alike, navigating and negotiating through social storms and ‘professional’ engagements. It was all so ridiculous somehow. Just… none of it mattered. The only remnant of the world she had left behind was the chair she was strapped to, laden with oxygen tanks and heavy sandbags.

The whiteness below her had tumbling edges, seemingly fluid, but strangely firm. How she wanted to live there, in those ever-rolling valleys and ridges, she’d have her bower made of light and mist, and be caressed to sleep by cupping hands of airborne ephemera. She might awaken, only to find she had been lifted up to a pillared balcony, buoyed by sails unseen, from where she could survey the kingdoms upon kingdoms; forests, seas and mountains created by soft pastures of tranquil convulsions in deep, rich fog.

She was in love - in love with the unspoken sweetness which had simmered above her all her life while she went chasing men and other mindless things. They had been a pleasant diversion, engaging in their way, but they always wanted one thing or another, always coercing her to give them more or less of the commodity of the day. Her new love demanded nothing but awe. Tears filled her eyes and drained down her cheeks as she gasped.

Cloud-beings seemed to wave to her, beckoning and gesturing. They wanted her to follow, plunging and spilling through white fields. All her life she had declined such offers, but this time was different. This time she would comply.

She loosened the straps which held her to the chair and shifted her weight to the edge of the seat. Her boots appeared so small against the drifting mass below.

And so she flew. Arms outstretched, she found she could guide herself to where she wanted to go. She aimed for a particularly striking valley in the cloud inhabited by innumerable vapourous entities. Finally, she was coming to meet them, to journey through their meadows and wonder at their wildlife. She slipped closer and closer, and as she slipped, the forms became less coherent. She was almost upon them. The sparkling sunlight was tamed, the cold wet body of the cloud stung her face.

She flew inside. Deeper, deeper. She spun around and around, no longer sure which way was up and which was down. After what seemed like hours of hazy neglect, she emerged with suddenness out of the underside of the cloud. Fields, hills, trees and roads glared at her while her promised land regarded her with a dark grey frown from above.

Screaming, rushing, desperate, she pulled the ripcord and allowed the red and black canopy to open above her. With heartbroken sobs, Marianne found her way gently back to the world which would hold her yet.

“How was it?” asked her boyfriend, Jan.
“It was just… so beautiful,” was all she could muster.
“OK, great. Let’s go home.”

And so home she went.

Reviews

[Chantal-lise Mirman]

I thought this was an exquisite meld of introspection and lyric fantasy! The imagery and description of the skyscape is stunning, and I couldn't help but feel Marianne was doomed to an Icarus death. Her failure to evolve brings her to the brink of transcendance, and anything afterwards is merely anti-climactic. I actually feel a little like this every time I go down the Grand Canyon! No-one ever understands why I leave sobbing...

[Dana]

I love this one andrew. It sends me on a magical journey, which carries on, even after the story has ended.
Just a few of my favourite sentences:
The silence was perfect and complete. She was in love- in love with the unspoken sweetness which had simmered above her all her life. Cloud-beings seemed to wave to her, beckoning and gesturing. They wanted her to follow.... All her life she had declined such offers, but this time was different. This time she would comply. And so she flew, arms outstretched....And so home she went.
Beautiful!

[J. Marc]

Hmmm ! I loved the exercise. Just wondering who enticed you to write as a she. The exercise is well done! All in sweetness, innuendos and lightness. Very different from the buoyantly expressive Farley and his phwoaaarrr and Swchphhh!

Indeed, all your stories do have these marks of aerial appeal which one might not necessarily find in the fast paced staging of "The temporal traveller".

My favourite passage is this one: "She was in love - in love with the unspoken sweetness which had simmered above her all her life while she went chasing men and other mindless things.". The distinction of your style, I guess!

One can only recommend the reading of Andrew's stories indeed. He is already a star in this forum and getting to know him better cannot really but provide interesting moments.

[Star-Runner]

I think this is a very well written write here, It is very inspiring, I love the history part you put in it, Very well written.

[Done]

I love how people are interpreting this story, or what is going on rather, in different ways. It's such good use of descriptions and actions that it's almost poetic in a sense that you can place her in different scenarios--very well written in my opinion. I really like your style of writing, it's inspiring!

Thanks for the great read.

[Raef C. Boylan]

Is this a story about an orgasm?

Very clever, if it is.
Very interesting, if it's not.

In fact, either way, this story is both.
Fantastic language, and the unusual setting is really well handled, in a matter-of-fact tone, like it's nothing out of the ordinary.

The paragraph about history was thought-provoking; although there have been changes up there, to the atmosphere, over time, there's no tangible evidence of this to be seen or held in the hand, whereas so much of human history is recorded, or remains in physical form and is kept on display and taught about.

Great write Andrew.
Your style is unique and original for sure.

[Narnie]

Im utterly convinced that Id reviewed this... reading it a second time, I was still carried on the journey with her and loved every minutes of your playful words and rhythm. This work is pure and perfect Andrew. Truly it is.

[Kristina Moulaison]

Another inspiring story for me. I enjoyed every word of this journey through the clouds!

[An Ordinary Woman]

*I love the notion of arms out stretched, I don�t know why I do, I just do. It tells me she was accepting and happy and thankful and joyous. I think it is very significant action when someone stretches out his or her arms in that way. Marianne is much braver than I am. I like my feet firmly planted on the ground, but I loved soaring with her and then sinking into clouds. I was nearly holding my breath when she was screaming and pulling her ripcord.

In a way, it seems as though you have been reading my mind. The sky has been sooo glorious lately, the clouds, soo inviting and the colors of recent sunsets and sunrises soo spectacular. I wrote that little story, �Magnificent Sunset� because I was so taken with the skies and the beauty it holds.

Another great read, Andrew.

Btw, after reading your other reviews, I thought about how very cool it is that everyone here has walked away with something a little different. It makes me realize that this story truly has reached out and touched us all in the very ways that makes it a wonderful story in the first place.

You reached us. You reached out and touched us. Isn't that great to be able to do that?

[the ghost of pauls]

There is a kind of luxurious delight in the language here. But it is not for its own sake, uncommon phrases slow the mind and rhythm is used also to control time as the story first floats and then plunges through the clouds. The writing and its subject land perfectly together. Technically, extremely difficult exercise executed wonderfully.