Froelich's Ladder Read Online Free
Author: Jamie Duclos-Yourdon
leaning against his back.
What was that? Did you move the fulcrum?
Indeed I did. Now you can punish me for as long as you like , Harald vowed, his arms trembling from the effort . I will not move until you come down.
Then you’ll have to wait a very long time , Froelich retorted. Which was true: Harald would wait there all day long, while Lotsee marveled at his stubbornness. Could Death himself be as obstinate as a Deutschman? The summer months waned, passing into autumn, and gradually a full year elapsed. In time, thanks to Lotsee’s persistence and ingenuity, Harald’s sons were born—also spaced fourteen months apart, the second of whom would leave him a widower. For the next seventeen years he would patiently wait, until a chance accident would take his life—and even then Froelich would stay up the rungs.
But now Harald muttered to himself, “A very long time is no time at all.” Realizing he’d spoken aloud, he repeated the sentiment via TAP , flexing his knees and patiently waiting for Froelich’s reply.
Chapter 3
It was a June morning in 1871 when Froelich disappeared. Dawn had erased the stars from the sky, and a rosy shoal of clouds was swimming toward the coast. Not until he woke did Binx, the younger of Harald’s two sons, first notice a difference.
The ladder was light against his back. Yawning, Binx examined this sensation. Even without ballast, the ladder continued to move, its stiles tilting in the breeze as a result of natural elasticity. But this morning it vibrated with uncommon vigor. As he experienced a muscle spasm under his right shoulder blade, like the fluttering of a trapped bird, Binx assured himself that Froelich was still asleep, safely anchored by his elbows and knees. This was a plausible explanation; he had good reason to believe it. And yet … something felt different. Even as he was slow to wake, Binx remembered how it normally felt when Froelich was sleeping. He remembered how it was supposed to feel.
Fully alert now, he considered his options. Gordy was due shortly with breakfast. Still, that left minutes to kill, if not longer. So on this morning, just like every other morning, Binx braced his hands against his knees and supported the ladder with his back. He tried to construe its weight not as a burden but as a comfort. Despite his suspicion that he was talking to himself, he relayed a message up the rungs:
Froelich, he said, I’ve been meaning to tell you. The other day, Gordy came around with a feather he’d found. He said he didn’t know what bird it belonged to, but it must be huge, this bird, since the feather was twice as long as his arm. I didn’t tell him it was a frond—just an ordinary deer fern, you see? I said it was a condor feather—and he believed me! I said you’d seen them nesting in the double-rungs and that he should look out for bird poop. He hid under the wood tarp, he was so scared !
It was a fabrication, meant to provoke a response: Gordy knew the difference between a leaf and a feather. Gordy could fix a wristwatch, play a game of chess, and even speak a little German. People only treated him like a dunce because of his bare feet and his drawl, and Gordy was disinclined to correct them. Better some kind of fool, he always said, than any kind of threat. That was all well and good, but for someone as large as Binx the connotation of being stupid was most unwelcome. Anyway, the tarp had blown away the previous summer. They’d been using damp logs ever since, knowing how the smoke must irritate Froelich, and how there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Binx wasn’t delusional—he knew that no one was listening. Still, his uncle had been a constant presence since before he was born. When they were kids, Binx had made Gordy practice TAP with him, so he could someday communicate via the ladder. They’d pounded their feet on the schoolroom floor while their teacher droned on about history and math. Even after Binx grew too large for
What was that? Did you move the fulcrum?
Indeed I did. Now you can punish me for as long as you like , Harald vowed, his arms trembling from the effort . I will not move until you come down.
Then you’ll have to wait a very long time , Froelich retorted. Which was true: Harald would wait there all day long, while Lotsee marveled at his stubbornness. Could Death himself be as obstinate as a Deutschman? The summer months waned, passing into autumn, and gradually a full year elapsed. In time, thanks to Lotsee’s persistence and ingenuity, Harald’s sons were born—also spaced fourteen months apart, the second of whom would leave him a widower. For the next seventeen years he would patiently wait, until a chance accident would take his life—and even then Froelich would stay up the rungs.
But now Harald muttered to himself, “A very long time is no time at all.” Realizing he’d spoken aloud, he repeated the sentiment via TAP , flexing his knees and patiently waiting for Froelich’s reply.
Chapter 3
It was a June morning in 1871 when Froelich disappeared. Dawn had erased the stars from the sky, and a rosy shoal of clouds was swimming toward the coast. Not until he woke did Binx, the younger of Harald’s two sons, first notice a difference.
The ladder was light against his back. Yawning, Binx examined this sensation. Even without ballast, the ladder continued to move, its stiles tilting in the breeze as a result of natural elasticity. But this morning it vibrated with uncommon vigor. As he experienced a muscle spasm under his right shoulder blade, like the fluttering of a trapped bird, Binx assured himself that Froelich was still asleep, safely anchored by his elbows and knees. This was a plausible explanation; he had good reason to believe it. And yet … something felt different. Even as he was slow to wake, Binx remembered how it normally felt when Froelich was sleeping. He remembered how it was supposed to feel.
Fully alert now, he considered his options. Gordy was due shortly with breakfast. Still, that left minutes to kill, if not longer. So on this morning, just like every other morning, Binx braced his hands against his knees and supported the ladder with his back. He tried to construe its weight not as a burden but as a comfort. Despite his suspicion that he was talking to himself, he relayed a message up the rungs:
Froelich, he said, I’ve been meaning to tell you. The other day, Gordy came around with a feather he’d found. He said he didn’t know what bird it belonged to, but it must be huge, this bird, since the feather was twice as long as his arm. I didn’t tell him it was a frond—just an ordinary deer fern, you see? I said it was a condor feather—and he believed me! I said you’d seen them nesting in the double-rungs and that he should look out for bird poop. He hid under the wood tarp, he was so scared !
It was a fabrication, meant to provoke a response: Gordy knew the difference between a leaf and a feather. Gordy could fix a wristwatch, play a game of chess, and even speak a little German. People only treated him like a dunce because of his bare feet and his drawl, and Gordy was disinclined to correct them. Better some kind of fool, he always said, than any kind of threat. That was all well and good, but for someone as large as Binx the connotation of being stupid was most unwelcome. Anyway, the tarp had blown away the previous summer. They’d been using damp logs ever since, knowing how the smoke must irritate Froelich, and how there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Binx wasn’t delusional—he knew that no one was listening. Still, his uncle had been a constant presence since before he was born. When they were kids, Binx had made Gordy practice TAP with him, so he could someday communicate via the ladder. They’d pounded their feet on the schoolroom floor while their teacher droned on about history and math. Even after Binx grew too large for
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