He's suspended from the mountain by just three fingers on one hand. If his tired digits let go, he falls ten feet until the next anchor catches him and smashes him into the wall of rock. His legs flail looking for footholds as he manages to swing and contort his body to grab a sliver of cratered rock in an otherwise smooth formation.
The area where he is on the mountain is jutted outward at a forty five degree angle. His legs still bicycle in mid air until one climbing shoe finally finds leverage. As words of encouragement are shouted from below, his tired leg muscles push and propels his body up a few feet. With an animal grunt, he pulls with his arms in unison, veins bulging, and he launches himself over the rock face. He lies on his back, panting, sweating, at the precipice of the mountain.
He stairs up at the sky, triumphant.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment