Once again I've written more than I expected to. I hope you enjoy it.

If you're a My Own World reader and are wondering what happened to the end of the story, my hard drive that it was stored on crapped out. While yes I can get the work back, it's more like I can get THAT work back, at least what was posted. The rest of the documents I had on there are not so lucky and I've been scrambling to fix the mess. Sorry. I promise I will finish the story though. Zillah's been bugging me about it for ages…

Bobby found himself in a strange situation. He was somewhere unfamiliar and, judging by what little he could see, very high up.

The place where he was sitting looked like it was made out of large stone blocks, but it had to be very old, because they were all badly weathered. He couldn't see a doorway on what, in his mind, he called the roof. He wasn't sure if it was a building or not because when he looked over the edge, he wasn't sure if there were any windows on the sides of it. There seemed to be some other large structures around him, and even though they were far off in the distance, he could tell the styles were radically different from the one where he sat.

He didn't have his phone for some reason, and all his attempts to shout for help had gone unanswered. There didn't seem to be any air traffic overhead, just some strange looking birds and butterflies. He decided the only way down was going to be scaling the side of the structure. With any luck once he was looking directly at the side of the building he'd be able to locate a window close by and get inside that way... If there were any. But first he concluded that a close examination of each side was in order to determine where his best chance of success was.

The first side revealed a straight wall of pocked and weathered rock, as did all the other sides. He sat down in the middle again to think about which was his best option. He decided that side three gave him the best chance out of all of them. Side two may have been a little better for hand and foot holds, but it had the sun shining directly on it, making a strenuous task even more draining. By what he had been able to determine side 3 should have indirect light for most of the day and decent holds. He got up and checked himself over for anything that could snag on the stones. When he was satisfied he went over to the side, got down on the ground, and eased himself over.

He had only lowered himself down a short way when he felt something solid beneath his feet. Stairs. Cut into the side of the tower. How he hadn't been able to see them from the top he didn't know, but here they were. He looked up to see just how far down they were and was shocked when all he could see was more wall rising above him into puffy fog like clouds. He looked behind him to see that the stairs did not go up any higher at all. Well down was where he wanted to go in the first place so down he went, slowly descending the stone stairs. After several feet he had a thought that he should be seeing a turn by now, coming up on the corner of the structure, but still the stairs continued straight on. He did notice 

something in the wall however as he moved ahead.

As he approached he realized it was a window. He stopped to check if it was locked and look inside, to see if there was anyone who would protest to a stranger walking in unannounced through the window. He didn't see anyone right away, and his calls went unanswered. He debated about breaking the window and leaving money to pay for the damage or to continue on the stairs. As he was thinking he caught movement out of the corner of his eye through the glass. Maybe someone had come home and would let him in! The lights came on and he had to grip the window frame fiercely to keep from falling off.

It was his apartment, and he was the one coming home. He recognized the clothes he was wearing. It was when he came home from Frank's funeral. He watched himself as he went to the kitchen and got down the bottle he kept over the fridge. Watched as he proceeded to cry openly about how much he missed his no good brother already, how guilty he felt over what their last meeting had been. He watched himself pour the first of what would be many glasses of amber liquid that night. Bobby, on the stairs, decided to keep walking down.

A little while later, he came to another window, this one locked as well. Again there didn't appear to be anyone inside, but this time he didn't argue with himself. He took off his flannel shirt, wrapped it around his hand and proceeded to punch the window hard. His fist bounced right off the glass with a resounding thumpt! He tried again, harder, and again his hand bounced right off. He was pondering how to get enough leverage to kick it and not fall off when the lights came on. This time he didn't have to grip anything to keep from falling, because his knees gave out on him first.

As his body sank to the stone, his heart was in his throat, the place in the room was Heaven. There he was, strapped to that awful metal table, boiling alive from the heat, begging for water, begging for his life. He observed himself falling apart at the seams. He knew he had come back from it, he knew, but watching it happen from the outside... How could anyone come back from that? No. That was the past. He had overcome it. He had to overcome it. He stood up resolutely, turned away from the vision in the room, and began walking again.

He didn't know how much longer he walked, but he knew he had passed several other windows. He had all but given up on getting in that way and didn't even glance into the darkened portals as he went by. He had looked both up and down several times during his walk, and while the ground seemed no closer the sky was certainly farther. The clouds had turned from puffy white to a steely grey as well. He hoped it wouldn't rain. The stones also looked different, darker. Not that they were any more damaged or weathered, it just seemed that the stones themselves were made from a darker material. If anything they looked less damaged and weathered. After a while longer he came upon a window that was already lit from the inside.

He peered cautiously through it, and saw his childhood home, lit up by warm light from the fireplace, the candles on the dinner table, and strings of shining bulbs. It was Christmas time. As he marveled at 

the sight his mother came into the dining room. She wasn't carrying a big ham or turkey, she was crying. His father, well Frank's father, came in after her. He couldn't tell what was being said, but he looked so angry. Frank came in a minute later, holding himself as a baby. Frank said something and attracted his father's attention. He grabbed the baby from Frank, who started to look very disconcerted about being handled so abruptly. He held the baby in front of Frances, continuing to yell, his face going red. Baby Bobby began to cry from the yelling and from the distress being felt by everyone. Frank even looked like he was going to cry as well, but he knew better than to be a sissy in front of his dad. His mother looked away from her husband, looked towards the window, and the moment he saw her face his reason left him.

He took a half step back and not caring about the fall, kicked as hard as he could at the window, willing it to break, please break, please let me fix this, please let me help her...

It didn't break. Instead he fell backwards from the rebound of his foot on the strangly resilient glass. It didn't matter though, he had tried. That was the important part. He still had so much to do though. At least he would find out if there was a ground here. There's still more work to be done. People need to help themselves or just accept what they get. Where did that thought come from? That wasn't like him at all. He had to stop his fall. He reached out, and his hands slapped hard against the edge of the stairs. He looked up to see how far he had fallen. Not far unless there was another window with the light on below where he started. Getting back up however was going to be a different challenge all together.

He had been struggling to either pull himself up or kick a leg over onto the stairs when he suddenly realized that he wasn't alone. "Who's there?" he said.

"Well it looks like you're in a predicament," said a soft musical voice.

"Yes. Can you help me get back up on the stairs?" Bobby replied.

"Why do you want to do that?"

"Because it's the only way down."

"Why do you want to go down?"

"Because that's where the ground is?"

"Oh... I see... You've gotten yourself turned around," said the voice.

"I have? How did I do that?"

"I couldn't say exactly. No one knows for sure how it happens, it just does."



"Well how about helping me back onto the stairs so I can go back up?"

"You know those stairs don't go all the way up, so why would you want to do that?"

"I've got to do something. I can't stay here forever," Bobby replied.

"You are right about that. But you do have another option. You can let go."

"But if I let go, I'll fall. I don't want to fall down there. I don't know what it is, but I know that I won't like it, if the whole falling part doesn't actually kill me that is."

"I'll catch you."

"I don't know you. How do I know you'll help me?"

"You do know me, you just don't realize it."

"If I know you how come I don't recognize your voice?"

"I think it's really because you just won't trust anyone to be there for you."

"I don't trust you, so I don't recognize you? That's rediculous. If I didn't trust you I'd be sure to recognize you so I'd know to be careful."

"But you are careful and you do know me. I think you want to trust me, but after everything it's just so hard," said the voice. "You can't hang there forever like you said. You'll either figure out a way to get back on your spiral stairs, continuing your long trek down, finally lose your grip and fall all the way to the bottom once and for all, or you can trust me."

"I'm scared," Bobby said softly.

"I know. But I already trust you. You just need to do the same."

"Alright. If I let go, you'll catch me right?"

"Yes."

He took several long deep breaths, willing his mind to be quiet, to stop thinking about how he was making a stupid mistake. He could feel the presence watching him, certainly sensing how nervous he was.

"It's OK," said the voice. "Let go. You can trust me. I know you can."'


He took one last deep breath and willed his hands to loosen their grip on the stones. He felt a moment of weightlessness as he began to fall, then right as the thought came into his mind that the voice had let him fall, he felt soft warmth all over his body, felt himself being lifted into the air. He tried to look at who was holding him, but there didn't seem to be anyone there. He was flying all on his own, but he still felt the presence nearby. The wall of the tower went by swiftly as he looked over at it, climbing higher into the sky, getting closer and closer to the now shining white clouds above him. "Who are you?" Bobby asked the air around him.

"I go by many names in many times and places. I am the wind and the waves, the sun and the moon, the sacred blood of life to all the plants and creatures of the earth. I am seen as Mother, and as Father. Take that however best fits your beliefs, but always know I am there."

As they approached the clouds the light became brighter and brighter, until Bobby was blinded by it and it was like a palpable thing wrapped around him. He began to feel constrained by it, tangled up in it and began to thrash and kick to get himself loose.

He woke up in his bed, hopelessly tangled in his sheets. Althea walked in just as he woke, with a look of concern on her face. "Are you OK? I heard you and came in to check on you."

"Yeah I'm fine, just a - a strange dream."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"Um. Yeah. Actually I do," he replied and told her the whole tale of what he had experienced in his dream. He finished telling the tale as he put the breakfast plates in the dishwasher.

"Wow Bobby. That's some dream," Althea said.

"Yeah. I think I get it now too. The tower was my pains, and they were dragging me down. By letting go of them, I can really move forward. I know in reality it's not that easy, but its there. I also have to learn to trust people more. Let people in. Because that's what's going to help me actually let go of all the guilt and anger and, and..."

"And let you be happy again."

"Yeah."

She stood up and kissed his cheek gently, wrapping her arms around him in a big hug. "I'm glad. It's been so hard to watch you hurt so much and you wouldn't even admit there was something wrong. I want you to be happy and I hope I can help make you happy. You're too much fun to feel bad all the time."



"Speaking of fun... We still on for the Museum today?"

"Of course."