The mountain jutted like a dagger from the earth, a pinnacle of grey in a world of brown. It was all sharp angles and vertical drops, the deadliest of climbs.
But still they attempted it. To even try to climb the mountain was worthy of honour.
If anyone ever reached the top, they would praised above all others, chosen of the gods.
So he pressed on, climbing with pick and rope. Even when his muscles burnt and the wind threatened to dash him against the ground, he pressed on.
At last, he stood upon the tip of the mountain and beheld what none of his people had beheld before: another world, all around him, a world of heights that made the mountain look like nothing, that made his people look like nothing.
He stood there, not knowing whether to laugh or weep.
Word Count: 142
This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and yarnspinnerr for providing the prompt photo!
Beautiful! The scenic description is excellent.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow! Great story, J.A.! When you think the mountain is massive and once conquered you find it is really very small compared to everything else!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
There’s always something bigger.. Nice take, JA
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike
I really enjoyed how you tackled this story . My story took a similar theme, but I much prefer yours.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! I just read yours and I think it’s really good as well.
LikeLiked by 1 person