I thought they’d never find me below this soaring cliff, broken rope coiling over my orange climbing shoes. I shouted, but the wilderness swallowed my voice and nobody heard – until the dog, whose barking brought rescuers at last.
My bones were gathered, zipped away. Now I can finally move on.
Deborah writes at an old desk surrounded by five hundred pet bugs.
Love this!
Ohhh, the ending caught me by surprise – good one!
Wow! Awesome
What a twist…and I hope the soul moves onto a better world.
And this is why I don’t go mountain climbing!
yes, surprise twist, as others have said. Greetings to your bugs.
I like your use of the participles ‘soaring’ and ‘coiling’ as adjectives in the same sentence. Also, the double meaning of ‘zipped’–into the body bag and then whisked away. Most of all, the spiritual character of most climbers–always on a quest–lessons learned and then move on.