She always did have the means and the motive to build her own salvation, but she never tried because the seasons were not in proper conjunction with her stars. Then one day, she knew it was time. She went into her garden, carefully cut twenty-nine white roses, and proceeded to weave the essence of their beauty into a gleaming white ladder. It took her exactly nine weeks, nine days, and nine hours, and when she was done, she propped the end of the ladder against the moon.

For so long, she thought the climb to the moon would be frightening when the day to do so eventually did come around, but once she began her ascent, she discovered this wasn't so -- not at all. With each rung she grabbed a hold of, she received the answer to another one of life's great mysteries. Among other things, she learned the language of bees. She learned how to sing the song of the spheres with her own voice. She learned the origin of butterfly sighs. She wondered why it was she always thought this would be so hard, when it was so easy -- almost instinctual.

When she reached her destination, she discovered that the surface of the moon was not cold, lifeless rock as the astronauts had always said. Nor was it made of green cheese. The surface of the moon was covered in a fine, silver fur that when tread upon, whispered like tiny bells made one with the songs of fishes. The more she walked, the more she knew, and soon the soles of her feet sparkled like diamonds with all the secret gifts the moon had blessed her with.

The next day, she awoke in her own bed with no memory of the moon or the ladder that was her means of conveyance, but from that day forward, when she dove for pearls in the indigo-dark waters of the World Ocean, she no longer feared sharks, and had mysteriously lost the ability to drown.

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...