Scaling the Iron Mast

Midday heat baked the tar paper. Ahead, a vertical steel service ladder bolted to an elevated elevator machinery shed offered a higher peak than the parapet. A weathered wooden surveyor's stake leaned diagonally across the bottom two rungs, barring the climb. I dropped my frame low and rammed my shoulder into the dense pine lath. It splintered slightly with a dry snap, dislodging from the metal frame and tumbling into the loose rooftop gravel. With the vertical lane cleared, I locked my foreclaws onto the warm, pitted iron rungs, hauling my bulk upward step by deliberate step. From this iron mast, the entire horizon submits.