[ WP ] A mountaintop city resides in an otherwise featureless sea of clouds . Every evening at sunset , the city seals itself off from the outside world until morning . Your main character is stuck outside one night when the doors close .

I took a slight deviation from the prompt, but I think it's still relevant. 
 
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 The world I live in is small. Hopelessly small. Our city resides in the clouds, floating precariously above a world I ’ ve never seen. My mountains are nimbus clouds. My rivers are cirrus. My plains are altocumulus. The world I see is simply representation of the real thing. I look upon the skyline and see clones. Poor knockoffs. I want to bask my eyes upon the green glory of a meadow. I want to feel the chill of watching snowdrift dance off the peak of a mountain. I want to swim in the waves of the ocean. 
 
 I want to see the world, not the one mine represents. 
 
 My Grandfather says if I spent more time working, and less time reading, I would appreciate what I have. Does a bird appreciate the intricacies of its cage? What else would I call my home? We live behind locked doors every evening. We shut our shades and black out the world and sit at the dinner table, not speaking of the insane ritual we all partake in. 
 
 They won ’ t understand, but I never expected them too. I ’ m different. They know it as much as I do. When the doors close, when the shutters are drawn and they turn away from the world beyond, they won ’ t find me at the table. 
 
 They won ’ t find me in my room. 
 
 They won ’ t find me in their home. 
 
 I ’ m certain they will be terrified. My grandfather will be furious, as will my mother. But they will not come out, not till morning. Until then, it is me and this darkening world. 
 
 The sunset is beautiful. Rich oranges and reds smear themselves across the sky ’ s plains. For once my nimbus clouds don ’ t look white washed; instead their bases house a deep shade of red, their caps white as snow. The sun is a throbbing yellow, the sky around it the vibrant color of a grapefruit. The colors add dimension to a stale climate, changing the world from blue and white, to white, blue, orange, red, and hints of purple. 
 
 I understand why they ’ d shut this out. The view is painfully beautiful. It's depth for a shallow world. It makes the world I live in seem even smaller, and the world beyond and below even more grand. 
 
 For an evening, the world is more than just a representation of another. For an evening, I appreciate what I have. But I know in the morning I will be drawn to its beauty like a drunk to his flask. I can not stay here. 
 
 I need to see the world. 

