Stories by Sarah

The Mountain

High above the town, I greedily breathe the air.

Already, there is little trace of the path I’d forged. The disturbed foliage bouncing back into place, like a coiled spring.

I sit, slowly. The exertion of the ascent has made me lightheaded. I close my eyes and feel the cool stone beneath my legs and buttocks. Solid. Comforting. Constant.

It makes me remember him. Solid. Comforting. Constant. My mountain.

But not any longer.

His words.

My pledge. 

I uncap the ornate vessel that holds him now. I can feel his urgency to be free. The forest beckons. Its wintergreen fingers tickling the ether as I empty him into their grasp.

smile as his ashes fly away. Who says you can’t move mountains?

By Sarah ©2022

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Wordle #281