Jaccob’s Ladder

I had restless night with the heat. Like hotels in San Fran, in Edinburgh they don’t worry too much about air conditioning. My room is on the west side of the building and the paulty air conditioner can’t compete with the long setting sun. So after the red-eye flight, and a fretfull first night, my second morning in Sccotland I slept in until 10:30.

Not wanting to waste time with breakfast, I make tea in my room and scarfed down my last Luna bar and I headed out of the hotel around noon. There were some wispy clouds in the sky and a cool breeze but my short sleeves and brisk pace were enough to keep me warm. My destination was Old Town, the Royal Mile. I was going to walk along it to Edinburgh Castel, but then something caught my eye. I was walking down Calton Street pass the train station and I spotted some interesting graffit and whipped out my camera. After getting the shot I noticed a doorway in the shot just to the right. Above the doorway were the words “Jacob’s Ladder.”

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I looke both ways and when there was a break in the traffic I crossed. I looked at the gate with a suspcious glance. I wanted to enter but where would it take me and was it safe? I sniffed around the portal until a woman happened by and I asked, “Where does this go?” She said it went up to “It goes to Calton Hill. It’s  by far the quickest way to get there.” she said with a welcoming grin.  I wanted to ask if if was safe but thought that would be an insult, so I chose not to.

I’d already been to Calton Hill, and although it was spectaccular site, there was still so much more I hadn’t seen, like the Castel for one, did I need to repeate this journey? Besides the passage looked questionable with an endless wall of graffitti lining the stairs. But the mysterious steps beccconed and I couldn’t resist at least climbing them a bit, I could always trum back, I told myself. With each step my senses rose. The worn steps had been topped with concrete, brocken glass and empty cigarette packs littered the ground. Who would I meet around the next bend?

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I climbed my way up the desolate stairs until I saw a steet ahead. I popped out onto the street like a scared astronaunt exploring the moon and ran smack into a person. She had long black hair and was wearing cutoff jeans. I wached her disapear down Jacob’s ladder with a skateboard potruding from her backpack. All the terror I felt while climbing now seemed silly.