Morning all and welcome to a snowy, snowy Friday. I hope you got your milk and bread yesterday. I had to pop into the store for something yesterday and saw those aisles were cleared out. That’s how you know a storm is coming. And of course, it arrived. So while we stay in our cone of snow silence, lets get out morning writing prompts done. Timers set and off we go.
I don’t know what Gary is doing on the mountain, but I suspect something has gone horribly wrong.
Friday, January 10th: The scree slipped beneath his feet.
The scree slipped beneath his feet. He felt like he couldn’t get purchase. He took one step forward and then seemed to slide back two. “Quick like a bunny,’ he thought.
He hoped that moving faster would at least prevent him sliding back too much. Gary took a deep breath, ‘Quick like a bunny,’ he repeated. It became his mantra as he moved up the slope. It was steep enough that he had to use both hands and feet to move upward and he was glad of his gloves. Normally he was a slow and steady sort of person. Gary thought of himself as having more in common with the tortoise than the hare.
Today, however was the hare’s day. Gary found speed worked and after what seemed like an age, he reached the top of the ledge, regaining the path. He hauled himself to flat ground and sat on the bare earth. He was panting and his heart was racing as if it too had channeled bunny-dom in his race up the mountainside.
For a few moments all he could do was sit and breathe. The air was cold and almost burned his lungs but he was grateful for it. He tried to time his breaths, remembering the long ago lessons in jogging his cousin tried to give him. His cousin Mike had always been more of the hare than the tortoise. While his efforts to get Gary to join him failed, he found himself grateful for the lessons as they helped him now. Gradually Gary felt his breath come in a more typical fashion. His heard stopped pounding like a mad thing intent on breaking his ribs. His heart rate resumed normal and his breathing less labored.
‘Normality restored,’ he thought. ‘For whatever that means out here.’
Knowing that he would stiffen or perhaps cramp up if he stayed sitting for too long, he pushed himself to his feet. His thighs and calves protested. ‘Suck it up,’ he told them. ‘This is for your benefit.’
They grumbled still but he ignored them. Even knowing it was a bad idea, Gary couldn’t resist looking over the edge. He could see the sliding scree that gave him so much trouble. He could also see the lower end of the path he was walking where it fell out from under him forcing him to scramble up the side of the mountain. A glance towards the drop that would no doubt have finished him off had he not managed the scramble sent him backing away from the edge.
Gary took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The drop was terrifying but it was a good reminder to watch his step. The next time the path fell out from under him he might not get so lucky.
He snorted to himself at the thought of being lucky in general and of considering his scramble lucky. Luck was rarely on his side. ‘But I did get lucky,’ he reminded himself as he turned away and began to walk the path. He knew from the maps that the path wound up this died and dipped through the pass before descending down the other side. He needed to get to the other side.
While he was willing to concede that he had gotten lucky, landing on a patch he could scramble up, he wasn’t willing to trust his luck further and concentrated on the path ahead.
Ten til Midnight 