a story of daring and heroism and bad shoe choices

i wanted to tell you a short story. some things don’t take so many words to describe. sometimes the best stories are best told with some self-restraint.

you already know the story that i’m talking about, anyway; it’s a familiar narrative. an allegory of a little engine may come to mind as i tell you this story, as it does for me. i won’t bore you with too many details and please feel free to fill in any gaps with dragons and near-death experiences, or escaped fugitives.

i’ll sketch only the briefest details for you because, after all, i want this telling to be slightly unique. it’s not a masterpiece, and it’s barely grammatically sound. all the paragraphs are only three sentences long.

that’s barely enough.

but i want to give you a sketch so that you can fill in the gaps, and maybe sit in those gaps, and see yourself in those gaps. this story isn’t even really about anyone. it’s really about you, [insert your name here].

the hero is a heroine, and she was not meant to climb mountains. maybe she was scared, or careful, or maybe she simply didn’t think she could. or maybe there weren’t many mountains in her life.

either way, circumstances culminated and there came a mountain.

let’s say it was this mountain.

more correctly,

this mountain. it was much more like this mountain.

the heroine approaches cautiously, and all the signs point her away.

but she wasn’t alone, as none of us are. well, she was alone, in that she had mass and flesh that covered her and kept her vaguely separate from others, though (life lesson:) these things can easily be worked around.

so, there was a mountain, and a girl, and two other people who both collectively decided that, actually, you know, 890 ft isn’t that high, and so what if the trail is pitched at maybe 60 degrees throughout, and so what if there are parts where you have to free climb, and ok, fine, so what! we won’t tell the heroine of this story that, actually, as it turns out, that not an inch of the trail is free from shale — shale, people — so that the heroine of this ga-dang story may be informed as to which footwear may, perhaps, be more appropriate than the toe shoes that she decided would be the most utilitarian when she first got in the car, before she knew about the mountain, and the shale, and the dragons. that’s no way to treat a heroine.

“we just won’t tell her,” they thought, “she is awesome and she will be fine, and she probably won’t have to be air lifted from the top.”

let us pray.

so, in this story, there are moments where success isn’t so clear, when there’s doubt and paranoia of bears, and terrifying moments of steep ledges.

and there are also wild berries of all sorts, and cute, tiny bunnies.

in the end, no one died, and everyone got a dramatic-looking photo where they are cast against a brilliant backdrop, which they may choose to use on their facebook accounts and impress their friends.

sometimes, that’s what life’s all about.

oh look, a great grain elevator.

fin.

xx katty lea