Original Fiction
If only, thought the little girl. If only, if only, if only I could climb the tree. The tree was a huge, gnarled old oak on the far side of the little girl's backyard. Well, her parent's backyard. But the tree was something out of a dream to her. She would daydream, at times, of laying under it and reading books, just as Alice did. And perhaps, if she read the right book, a white rabbit would hurry by and she would follow it down a rabbit hole into another world. Or, perhaps she would daydream it was a mountain, taller than Mt. Rainier, taller than Mt. Kilimonjaro, taller even than Mt. Everest (which her teacher said was the tallest in the world-- not in her daydream), and it was hers alone. To climb, to conquer, to build a house on, to do whatever she wanted to. Well, at least until her brother caught her by the tree. He would run outside, yelling at her, telling her for the hundredth time (though it seemed like the millionth) to stay away from his tree. Each time, he would yell at her, and she would yell back. "You don’t own this tree!" she would shout. "It's not yours!" "Oh, yeah?" he would challenge. "Well, you can have it. But only if you can climb it." Oh, that challenge. Always the same. And always so intimidating. If only, if only, if only she had the guts, the courage, to do it - it couldn't be so bad. She would climb it, conquer it for her own, and banish her brother from it forever. In her daydreams. But in the real world, it was too much. Too huge, too scary all of a sudden, its grasping limbs looking not as welcome as before. And as always, she would back down. She stood before the tree now, mere hours before her brother returned from school, contemplating. She thought back on all the times she had stood there and done the same, trying to raise her resolve, her courage, and climb the tree. She recalled some line her father had quoted some years ago: "Let not the beast of fear best you on your own ground." She wished she knew who said it. A brief image of her lying under the tree flitted across her mind, but she banished it quickly. She would not let herself be trapped by daydreams until her brother came home. Then it would be too late, and she would have to wait again for her courage to resurface. Today is different, she told herself firmly. I'm ten years old. I may be just a girl, but that doesn't mean I can't do it. I can do it. And today is different. She took a step forward, and the scenery changed. She was now a mountaineer on the cold slopes of Mount Tree, the tallest and most treacherous mountain in the world. She wasn't the first to try and climb it, but she would be the first to conquer it. Step by careful step, she proceeded, grabbing the sharp outcroppings that appeared, using them as foot- and hand-holds on her progress upwards. Strong winds buffeted her, making her lose her balance. She knew the mountain was watching her, waiting for her to fall, to fail, knowing it was unconquerable. But she continued onward, ever upward, as a silent monologue ticked in the back of her head: "I know I can, I know I can, I know I can..." Then, there was one last rock, one last breath of wind, one last tick-- and she was there. No more beasts of fear haunted her doorstep. No more frustration dripped from her brow. Because she was there. The scene changed back to that of her less glamorous backyard, seen from a bird's eye view. She was at the top of the tree, her tree, with the branches soft beneath her and the leaves tickling the back of her neck. She was now the conqueror. Down, far away by the house, her brother appeared outside. She waved furiously, trying to catch his attention. He saw her almost immediately, and waved back. He began making his way to her tree. As she watched, she saw a white shape skitter across the yard toward a hole on the other side of a small garden. A smile hovered on her lips as she watched it dart inside. There
was no need to chase daydreams now.
~end
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