It has been there a long time, fifty years
ago, forty, many, many times since then.
It’s steep, it gets steeper the higher you
climb and then it is so steep that it becomes impossible and gravity claims
you.
The impossible hill.
It is only ever seen at night-time though
even then it can be bathed in the bright light of day.
Sometimes it is in a street and concrete or in a forest and earth; sometimes it is a known place and at
other times not.
You can never climb this hill, but the
years of failure will not stop you.
It is night in the city, London streets in
the north-western suburbs. There is a park. Crossing the park and there is a
cave.
Enter the cave and it is clear that the
cave goes somewhere.
And this is the start of the hill.
The walls of the cave close in, the hill
starts to climb, gently at first – this is encouragement – then narrower and
narrower, steeper and steeper.
The ground is sand – soft but a little
damp, it is a cave after all, and the wheels of the bike become heavier and
heaver.
Yes, you are climbing the hill with a bike,
that is the impediment.
There is a window in the wall of the cave,
below in the street you can see people leaving buildings looking up and maybe
catching sight of lamp light in the cave – you are carrying a torch.
The impossible hill; a bike; a torch; a
possible adversary.
Then something changes.
There is a cable attached to the cave wall.
Is it there to help you climb? Or is it
there to guide you safely back down when you fail.
You will always fail.
There are handles too, spaced easily to
pass from hand to hand.
But this is the impossible hill.
But…
What if you let go of the bike? Then you
could use both hands.
There have never been handles before.
There has never been sand before, and sand
is soft if you fall.
And what if you switch off the torch, no
one will see you?
No one will see you, but you will see
nothing.
So why not close your eyes?
…….
…
You can feel the edge under your chest as
you pull once more, this hill has an edge, the summit is here, you are safe –
the climb can no longer claim you.
There is no feeling of elation, only curiosity.
You risk the torch; no one can see you
here.
There is a room in the rock, but it looks
like there is no going forward.
There is a bed; you can sleep.
There is a wardrobe, a very ancient piece
of furniture, but you recognise some of the clothes – she wore these, they
belong to her.
Is it her room?
There is a box, or maybe it’s a case,
standing on the floor between the bed and the wardrobe so you move it to one
side.
There is a well, you can see the movement
of water in the lamplight and at the back of the well there is a metal panel,
it looks like a door.
I think you opened it, but I am not sure
but if you did it it did not take you on.
I know you spat, once, into the well to see if it was really water - it was a strange gesture.
You looked into the box.
Or was it a case?
You did not pay attention to its contents.
That was your only mistake.
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