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A Day On A Mountain

Author: Trifecta
ASL Info:    14.male.Somewhere
Elite Ratio:    5.58 - 32 /34 /28
Words: 1330
Class/Type: Story /Misc
Total Views: 813
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I did this for a test grade in English class. I was given a writing prompt that I had to follow.

Prompt: “A man climbing a mountain.”

A Day On A Mountain

With bone-chilling winds cutting through you like an expertly handled butchery knife running through a melted stick of butter, one tends to get a slight case of the shivers, especially in a situation such as climbing a massive pile of rock that most people refer to as a mountain. What’s more is when the still-wind temperature is five below farenheight, and the rushing winds drop it down to at least fifteen below, if not, even lower. Circumstances such as these may also lead to the dimming or numbing of one’s senses, and the lowering of one’s brain capacity, to the point where they’re barely able to comprehend their own rational thoughts.

Armed with nothing but two layers of fur clothing, leather-lined gloves, and leather boots, along with a flag and the basic climbing equipment, the climber felt a great sense of joy when the peak of the mountain he had been climbing finally came into view. Thus far, in the eleven hours he had been there, the only time he stopped was for twenty minutes at noon just to rest and eat a cereal bar that was frozen solid.

But by rest, he simply sat, ate, and warmed himself up. No sleeping, for, if he slept under these conditions, the man would find he might sleep for a lot longer than he would want to... an eternity longer.

But that rest had been at least six hours ago, and fatigue was finally starting to rear its ugly head in the climber’s mind, sometime around five pm.

Maybe once he reached the top, he would rest for a few minutes. So long as he remembered not to close his eyes, even for a second, he would be safe, and the rest would be beneficial, especially since he still had the scale back down the mountain ahead of him.

By this time, the peak was almost thirty yards away, but the distance was nothing compared to the considerable drop beneath him. He was so high up; looking back would probably allow him to see clouds below. But of course, the climber was smarter than that. He knew that if he looked back now, the fear of falling would grow from phobia in the back of his mind to the only thing he’d be able to think about, and the fear of falling would end up paralyzing him mentally, and being paralyzed mentally usually means you cannot move, or even worse, cannot keep your balance. And loosing your balance while climbing a mountain simply wasn’t a good thing.

This was not his first climb however, so he knew not to look back.

Twenty yards now. He could see the tip of a flag on top of the mountain. A green flag with three blue stars across the center, and the letters “R” and “K” next to each other above them. The flag was slightly tattered, but still marked the glorious achievement of a single man (or woman, for that matter) before him.

The climber hoped that he too would make the final twenty yards, and get a chance to leave his own mark, right next to RK’s... whoever they were.

At ten yards, the climber was truly forcing himself, very near to his limits. Climbing this two thousand foot mountain was so important to him that he was able to push his mental strength behind his physical capacity so far that it was actually able to increase the man’s endurance temporarily. The wind continued to cut through his two layers, past his flesh and bone, and deep into his blood.

But none of this was stopping him. He was going to make it up this mountain.

Finally, after a exhausting effort, his hand grabbed hold of the final ledge, the flat top of the peak.

It was no bigger than ten feet around, and was just big enough for him to sit upon it.

He looked up at RK’s flag and stood up beside it. On his back, his own flag had been fastened; a red flag with his initials sewn on it. “D” and “P.”

His wife had sewn it by hand for him, and so, the flag was much more than just a piece of cloth with his initials on it. Every flag she gave him for his climbs, he treated like a treasure, and they were his good luck charms.

He took the pole, which was slightly shorter than RK’s pole, and took it slowly off his back. Placing it carefully on the frozen rock, he found the perfect spot for it near RK’s flag, and began to hammer it in with his hand.

He put his hand into a fist and put it on top of the pole and started to hammer. At first, it wouldn’t go, but after a couple more (very) rough pounds, it started to sink into the rock.

Suddenly, joy overcame him, and he went to shout with happiness, but his vocal chords
refused to make a sound.

It was the cold, his vocal chords were not properly functioning.

He wasn’t worried, though, for it had happened to him before, loosing his voice from the harsh conditions.

He sat on the edge, his legs hanging over, taking a brief rest before starting to climb
back down. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, which had a picture of him and his family in it. By family meaning, his beautiful wife and their two-year-old son.

Brianne and Richard... he wondered how long it would be before he would be able to see them again and tell them everything about his trip. That’s the part he loved about mountain climbing the most, getting home and sharing the journey with his wife and his son, telling them about every last detail.

As he was daydreaming about this future endeavor, something suddenly started to not
feel right.

He stood up quickly and figured he had rested long enough, and started down the mountainside once again.

The climber wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow, balance was lost. Maybe he had been not paying enough attention to what he was doing, maybe he stepped on some unsturdy rock, but whatever happened was certainly an mystery.

His safety harness snapped from the sudden pressure, and the climber began to fall at a rapid pace.

A rapid pace in reality, at least. In the climber’s mind, the fall took hours, while in real
time, it took all of five seconds.

He landed hard on his back on a sharp rock, and flipped over, falling even farther. As he flipped, his left leg smacked against the sharp rock, and the climber felt, and heard a crack.

He continued on for thirty feet down the mountain, rolling, hitting rocks, and other hard objects that he didn’t know what they were.

Finally, when he stopped rolling, there was the pain.

There were so many broken bones in his body that he couldn’t even tell what was
broken. All he could tell was that it was a lot of bones.

And that was it. Lying next to him was his wallet, with the picture of him and his wife and his song missing. It had fallen out somewhere along the fall.

He focused his eyes the best he could back up toward the peak, where his and RK’s
flags were still flying in the wind.

At least he had made it to the top... even if he hadn’t made it to the bottom.

With that thought hanging in his head, the climber closed his eyes.

He figured he might as well catch some sleep.

Submitted on 2007-03-26 03:31:40     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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