Short Stories

The Mountain ~ 1

The mountain was as mysterious as the deepest depths of the ocean. A train, the same as for many, had taken me half of the way. The maintain was shorter than Everest, snow capped and sat in the middle of a luscious green field. Mist swirled it's way around the mountain top, writhing and wrapping around itself in an unstoppable, continued pattern.
The train skids to a stop, wheels squeezing on ice-slick rails.
"Last stop." The train attendant called, turning an eye on me. She wore bright pink lipstick and a name tag that read, "Diane."
I took my time hauling my rucksack onto my heavily padded shoulders slipping my gloves and securing a beanie.
I walked past Diane without a smile.
The mountain loomed over me like a disapproving parent, giving me the same feeling in my chest as my father once did - something I'm sure you will have experienced by now. All the same; I swallowed and started my journey.

~

Air prickled the inside of my chest. Sweat pooled beneath my clothes. Frost curled at the edges of my hair. The mountain was alive. And it wasn't happy.
Every resource at its disposal was used to stop my accent. Concrete-hard rocks crumbled in my hands just as I was about to swing my legs onto a ledge. And I had to start again each and every time. Yet, I made progress.
If I looked at it with optimism: then the mountain was providing me with a safer route.
If I looked at it with pessimism: then I would still be climbing by nightfall.
I stopped to rest, ice falling away from my pack as I opened it. I stuffed the frozen musli bar into my mouth and waited for the frost to melt before I dared chew. That had probably taken more energy than it was worth - never take a muesli bar on a hike.
I resumed my trudge. My mind returned to the thought that the mountain was fighting me. The wind was its hands. The rocks its words. The ice it's mind.
Until I reached the summit.
It was nothing I had ever dreamed. Nothing anyone could ever dream. The sight of it warmed my broken heart and body. Filling me the ecstasy and pure happiness of a thousand men and women.
I dropped my pack; gloves and beanie sliding off my head. No words, no thoughts, no feeling but happiness filled my head.
Imagine the best place you've ever been - if I've done my parenting right it will be a lot of places. Now the place you want to go most in the world - fictional or otherwise. And combine them together, take whatever you might feel if you ever visit that place. That's what it's like being at the mountain.
And remember that, because that's as close as you're ever gonna get. It's as close as you will ever imagine .
Because I will never describe the mountain, or its story, to you.
No, the mountain is mine.
But, you can find your own mountain.