As you discover your voice, you notice you like to write things a certain way. You use certain words a lot. You employ similar grammatical structures again and again. You regularly write from one point of view.
Photo by Shane Adams
Recently, I've noticed I'm falling into first person point of view more and more. It makes sense. First person allows me to write descriptively while delving into the complex emotions of my character, which is what I love doing. I could do the same with third person, limited omniscience, but first is more natural.
However, the risk you take when you write in first person is to talk too much about yourself. I once wrote a seven part blog series about how I felt my first day in Romania. It was boring—like a teenager's diary.
If you want to write using first person, are you going to write about yourself or are you going to create a character? The character might not be you, and they definitely won't say everything they think and feel.
To put it another way, are you going to write about things people want to read, or are you just going to talk about yourself?
PRACTICE
Practice first person point of view by writing about a hike through the mountains gone horribly wrong.
Fifteen minutes. Post your practice in the comments.
i dont know what your talking about. my teenage diaries are riveting.
I’ve read some of your diaries. Riveting they are not 😉
i dont know what your talking about. my teenage diaries are riveting.
I’ve read some of your diaries. Riveting they are not 😉
I had to get away. To where? I wasn’t sure, just not here. I had had it with work, with my marriage and my rebellious teenage son. I needed a change of scenery, so I just got in the car and started driving. I didn’t even pack a bag.
At first I thought I’d just drive to my normal hideaway spot on Lake Windermere, but even the familiarity of that personal retreat was too painful. So I kept driving. I-70 was long and wide and flat and it just beckoned me to keep going.
Within a couple of hours of my escape, my cell phone started ringing. First, it was my boss. To hell with him! I didn’t answer. Next it was my son. I assumed he needed me to bail him out of some problem as school, so I ignored it. Then, when I saw my wife’s name appear, I rolled down my window and tossed the phone. What a rush! I cranked up the radio and rolled down all the windows, set the cruise on 80 and drove.
The flat lands of Kansas are quite lonely in the middle of the night. I’d stop occasionally to get some gas, stretch and take a leak. I loaded up on some junk food and kept going. By morning I found myself in the Rockies.
I thought to myself, “I wonder what the explorers must have thought when they came face to face with these majestic mountains the first time?” Driving through the passes, I would slow down and try and see if I could see the tops of the mountains. I wondered how the first travelers ever made it through here alive.
I pulled off at Idaho Springs and decided to explore the back roads. The scenery was incredible, so I decided to pull off to the shoulder of start exploring on foot. I wasn’t dressed for mountain climbing or hiking. In fact, I still had my tie on from work. I chuckled at myself, thinking how I must look hiking these mountain trails wearing a shirt and tie and black Oxfords. I trudged on ahead. I had my eye on a particular ridge. I thought if I could make it up there, I would be treated to a spectacular view.
I came to a small crevice in the rock formation that created a three foot wide ravine between me and my summit destination. Heck, it was only three feet, so I set out to jump it and move ahead. But as I leapt into the air, the smooth sole of my right shoe caused me to slip and I ended up falling head first into the crevice. The fall was maybe only six or seven feet, but it was enough to cause me to black out for a moment when I hit my head on the granite floor below.
When I came to, I was dazed and confused. The afternoon sun was directly above me, blinding me as I tried to get focused as to my whereabouts. I thought I saw two figures above me, reaching out their hands towards me. Were they rescuers or were they angels?
“I rolled down my window and tossed the phone. What a rush!”
Yes! Reminds me of Run Rabbit, Run, by Updike. Have you read it? You might like it, although it can be a little graphic. I love these journey stories, an escape from everything familiar into a kind of strange and holy time space. They call it liminality and say it’s the place where all transformation happens.
One nitpicky thing, in this paragraph, “I pulled off at Idaho Springs and decided…” you repeat “decided.”
I love the ending. I think this would make for an interesting short story. It needs to be longer, more detailed, and have a few flashbacks so we would know what happened earlier. It’s really good though. Thanks Tom.
your first three paragraphs were really funny!! i started drifting a bit in the middle but came back for the end. this is a nice set up for a short story (as joe said).
I agree, this is good and catches my attention. Don’t we all dream of doing a variation of this all the time? I too would like to see more. Idea: Maybe his slick work shoes cause him to fall into the pit, but his tie saves him?
I should say, eventually saves him.
Haha I like that idea. Which is why we should all wear flip flops and short sleeve button ups with ties.
I had to get away. To where? I wasn’t sure, just not here. I had had it with work, with my marriage and my rebellious teenage son. I needed a change of scenery, so I just got in the car and started driving. I didn’t even pack a bag.
At first I thought I’d just drive to my normal hideaway spot on Lake Windermere, but even the familiarity of that personal retreat was too painful. So I kept driving. I-70 was long and wide and flat and it just beckoned me to keep going.
Within a couple of hours of my escape, my cell phone started ringing. First, it was my boss. To hell with him! I didn’t answer. Next it was my son. I assumed he needed me to bail him out of some problem as school, so I ignored it. Then, when I saw my wife’s name appear, I rolled down my window and tossed the phone. What a rush! I cranked up the radio and rolled down all the windows, set the cruise on 80 and drove.
The flat lands of Kansas are quite lonely in the middle of the night. I’d stop occasionally to get some gas, stretch and take a leak. I loaded up on some junk food and kept going. By morning I found myself in the Rockies.
I thought to myself, “I wonder what the explorers must have thought when they came face to face with these majestic mountains the first time?” Driving through the passes, I would slow down and try and see if I could see the tops of the mountains. I wondered how the first travelers ever made it through here alive.
I pulled off at Idaho Springs and decided to explore the back roads. The scenery was incredible, so I decided to pull off to the shoulder of start exploring on foot. I wasn’t dressed for mountain climbing or hiking. In fact, I still had my tie on from work. I chuckled at myself, thinking how I must look hiking these mountain trails wearing a shirt and tie and black Oxfords. I trudged on ahead. I had my eye on a particular ridge. I thought if I could make it up there, I would be treated to a spectacular view.
I came to a small crevice in the rock formation that created a three foot wide ravine between me and my summit destination. Heck, it was only three feet, so I set out to jump it and move ahead. But as I leapt into the air, the smooth sole of my right shoe caused me to slip and I ended up falling head first into the crevice. The fall was maybe only six or seven feet, but it was enough to cause me to black out for a moment when I hit my head on the granite floor below.
When I came to, I was dazed and confused. The afternoon sun was directly above me, blinding me as I tried to get focused as to my whereabouts. I thought I saw two figures above me, reaching out their hands towards me. Were they rescuers or were they angels?
“I rolled down my window and tossed the phone. What a rush!”
Yes! Reminds me of Run Rabbit, Run, by Updike. Have you read it? You might like it, although it can be a little graphic. I love these journey stories, an escape from everything familiar into a kind of strange and holy time space. They call it liminality and say it’s the place where all transformation happens.
One nitpicky thing, in this paragraph, “I pulled off at Idaho Springs and decided…” you repeat “decided.”
I love the ending. I think this would make for an interesting short story. It needs to be longer, more detailed, and have a few flashbacks so we would know what happened earlier. It’s really good though. Thanks Tom.
your first three paragraphs were really funny!! i started drifting a bit in the middle but came back for the end. this is a nice set up for a short story (as joe said).
I agree, this is good and catches my attention. Don’t we all dream of doing a variation of this all the time? I too would like to see more. Idea: Maybe his slick work shoes cause him to fall into the pit, but his tie saves him?
I should say, eventually saves him.
Haha I like that idea. Which is why we should all wear flip flops and short sleeve button ups with ties.
Person 1: Oh crap. That’s the only thing that could go thru my head as I sat at the bottom of the hill I had just slid/rolled down. I looked up at the disheveled mountainside as I rubbed my backside before gently picking the plant life from my palms and hair. I twisted to pull my foot out from under my butt when pain spasmed through my leg, radiating from my ankle.
Oh crap indeed. How the heck was I supposed to hobble out of here when I had a rockface to climb up first? Ok, maybe not rockface, but it looked like an awful climb.
Person two:
Gasping for air, I stared up at the sky wondering when my body would finally respond and let me draw in a good deep breath of oxygen. I struggled to a sitting position once I caught my breath and looked up the mountain side I had just tumbled down. That was going to be hideous to climb up. The steep sides had slick places that looked very difficult to traverse, at least without ropes and a harness. Shrugging my shoulders, I motioned to stand but as soon as I put pressure on one of my ankles, pain lanced out thru my body and the knee-jerk reaction to pull away or stop pain had me on the ground again.
Thanks for practicing Amanda!
Interesting how you’ve done this exercise from two different perspectives. That’s cool.
I like how you can definitely feel the panic of this poor hiker. Nice use of interjections: heck, Oh crap, Ok.
Here are some minor things to consider when writing in first person. Would the narrator really think out loud about gasping for air, or shrugging their shoulders, or what a knee-jerk reaction is? Maybe, but most of the time I think we write those things in because we’re looking at the character from a third person perspective. In the moment, someone in this situation probably wouldn’t think, Oh look at how I’m gasping for air, instead they would notice the way their lungs burned, how tight their throat was, the way that the horizon couldn’t stay flat but was going diagonal like the deck of a ship, the col feeling in their arms and forehead, the way their hands shook.
That being said, if they came home and told the story to their best friend or in the bar, they might actually talk about how they were gasping for air. It’s all about perspective.
Hmm. Thanks for the tidbits. I’ve never had any formal instruction on creative writing so I really appreciate it. I learn everywhere I can so the fact that I found your blog from twittee is awesome
Yeah, you’re welcome. Thank you for finding us 🙂
Person 1: Oh crap. That’s the only thing that could go thru my head as I sat at the bottom of the hill I had just slid/rolled down. I looked up at the disheveled mountainside as I rubbed my backside before gently picking the plant life from my palms and hair. I twisted to pull my foot out from under my butt when pain spasmed through my leg, radiating from my ankle.
Oh crap indeed. How the heck was I supposed to hobble out of here when I had a rockface to climb up first? Ok, maybe not rockface, but it looked like an awful climb.
Person two:
Gasping for air, I stared up at the sky wondering when my body would finally respond and let me draw in a good deep breath of oxygen. I struggled to a sitting position once I caught my breath and looked up the mountain side I had just tumbled down. That was going to be hideous to climb up. The steep sides had slick places that looked very difficult to traverse, at least without ropes and a harness. Shrugging my shoulders, I motioned to stand but as soon as I put pressure on one of my ankles, pain lanced out thru my body and the knee-jerk reaction to pull away or stop pain had me on the ground again.
Thanks for practicing Amanda!
Interesting how you’ve done this exercise from two different perspectives. That’s cool.
I like how you can definitely feel the panic of this poor hiker. Nice use of interjections: heck, Oh crap, Ok.
Here are some minor things to consider when writing in first person. Would the narrator really think out loud about gasping for air, or shrugging their shoulders, or what a knee-jerk reaction is? Maybe, but most of the time I think we write those things in because we’re looking at the character from a third person perspective. In the moment, someone in this situation probably wouldn’t think, Oh look at how I’m gasping for air, instead they would notice the way their lungs burned, how tight their throat was, the way that the horizon couldn’t stay flat but was going diagonal like the deck of a ship, the col feeling in their arms and forehead, the way their hands shook.
That being said, if they came home and told the story to their best friend or in the bar, they might actually talk about how they were gasping for air. It’s all about perspective.
Hmm. Thanks for the tidbits. I’ve never had any formal instruction on creative writing so I really appreciate it. I learn everywhere I can so the fact that I found your blog from twittee is awesome
Yeah, you’re welcome. Thank you for finding us 🙂
Joe, I wanted to put my story down about a hike gone wrong, but just don’t have the energy to rewrite it all with my left hand. I’ll let this little link do the writing for me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OlhLOWTnVoQ
You’re a clown. That is a good example of a hike gone wrong. Although, I don’t understand why you can’t type with both hands. I know you didn’t cut your right arm off with a pocket knife. Still we should go see that movie when it comes out.
Joe, I wanted to put my story down about a hike gone wrong, but just don’t have the energy to rewrite it all with my left hand. I’ll let this little link do the writing for me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OlhLOWTnVoQ
You’re a clown. That is a good example of a hike gone wrong. Although, I don’t understand why you can’t type with both hands. I know you didn’t cut your right arm off with a pocket knife. Still we should go see that movie when it comes out.
i’m hiking up camelback mountain with my girlfriend sarah.
i’m a little outta shape, sucks to be me.
sucks more that she asked her best friend’s big brother brad to come too. they’re padding along, all chipper and what not not. and its all i can do not to hack up a lung.
and of course, brad is the, like, the consummate conversationalist. about everything sarah likes. did he do his homework, or what?
so i’m two steps, no make that 9 steps, behind. i’m straining my ears half as much as i’m straining my ticker. which is plenty. but for the life of me, i cannot hear a word. he’s got that low sexy dude voice going on. so the only thing that reaches me is sarah’s “oops i forgot to think for myself” giggle. which is abruptly followed by her 3-word classic:
“i know, right?!?”
i hate it when she says that.
i pick up the pace to rescue myself from the fight i’m warming up to.
you do NOT want to know what happens next.
I do not want to tell you.
it has something to do with a mesquite tree root, gravity, and a guy who spits out two bloody teeth.
sucks for me.
sucks more that i’m carried off the playing field by the very guy i was about to take out.
sucks for me.
i know, right?
Woah. I DO want to know what happens next? Swallows bloody teeth? Yikes.
One thing you’ve got to watch out for is cliche. Here’s a list of the ones you used:
sucks to be me
hack up a lung
did he do his homework
for the life of me
I know, right
carried off the playing field
Sucks to be me, and I know right, are not technically cliches, but they’re overused phrases that you should generally avoid. Here, though, I think you used them both beautifully. The repetition of sucks to me be is fun, spunky, and the way you criticize her for saying,”I know, right,” gives us a very clear picture of her.
Cliches are conversational and can add an easygoing tone to your writing, but in general avoid them. They’re shortcuts and watered down truths.
ahhh, good points. i was trying to paint a stereotype of a certain type of guy (who only knows how to talk in a shallow way) but perhaps i took the easy way out! also i had to fix it because i intended for the reader to know what happened without the narrator coming right out with it. i hope adding “gravity” made it more clear 🙂 (plus—my husband Tim just told me that guys don’t swallow teeth — they usually end up spitting them out.) i guess it’s not as easy as it seems to think and write like the opposite sex, huh.
thanks for the input, as always!
OH! I didn’t realize the narrator was a guy! Silly me. Now it makes much more sense why the other dude “swallowed” or spit his teeth. Sorry for misreading 🙂
i just re-read it and it could totally have been a jealous girl narrator! who had the hots for brad , and is pissed that sarah’s getting all the airspace. course…the visual of a girl getting carried off with two missing front teeth is not so kitchy, huh? kinda gross, actually. :-/
anyway…this writing practice proved to me that envy and ignorant voice can be unisex.
Haha very true. Envy and ignorance is universal.
i’m hiking up camelback mountain with my girlfriend sarah.
i’m a little outta shape, sucks to be me.
sucks more that she asked her best friend’s big brother brad to come too. they’re padding along, all chipper and what not not. and its all i can do not to hack up a lung.
and of course, brad is the, like, the consummate conversationalist. about everything sarah likes. did he do his homework, or what?
so i’m two steps, no make that 9 steps, behind. i’m straining my ears half as much as i’m straining my ticker. which is plenty. but for the life of me, i cannot hear a word. he’s got that low sexy dude voice going on. so the only thing that reaches me is sarah’s “oops i forgot to think for myself” giggle. which is abruptly followed by her 3-word classic:
“i know, right?!?”
i hate it when she says that.
i pick up the pace to rescue myself from the fight i’m warming up to.
you do NOT want to know what happens next.
I do not want to tell you.
it has something to do with a rock in the road. and a guy who swallows two bloody teeth.
sucks for me.
sucks more that i’m carried off the playing field by the very guy i was about to take out.
sucks for me.
i know, right?
Woah. I DO want to know what happens next? Swallows bloody teeth? Yikes.
One thing you’ve got to watch out for is cliche. Here’s a list of the ones you used:
sucks to be me
hack up a lung
did he do his homework
for the life of me
I know, right
carried off the playing field
Sucks to be me, and I know right, are not technically cliches, but they’re overused phrases that you should generally avoid. Here, though, I think you used them both beautifully. The repetition of sucks to me be is fun, spunky, and the way you criticize her for saying,”I know, right,” gives us a very clear picture of her.
Cliches are conversational and can add an easygoing tone to your writing, but in general avoid them. They’re shortcuts and watered down truths.
ahhh, good points. i was trying to paint a stereotype of a certain type of guy (who only knows how to talk in a shallow way) but perhaps i took the easy way out! also i had to fix it because i intended for the reader to know what happened without the narrator coming right out with it. i hope adding “gravity” made it more clear 🙂 thanks for the input, as always!
OH! I didn’t realize the narrator was a guy! Silly me. Now it makes much more sense why the other dude “swallowed” or spit his teeth. Sorry for misreading 🙂
i just re-read it and it could totally have been a jealous girl narrator! who had the hots for brad , and is pissed that sarah’s getting all the airspace. course…the visual of a girl getting carried off with two missing front teeth is not so kitchy, huh? kinda gross, actually. :-/
anyway…this writing practice proved to me that envy and ignorant voice can be unisex.
Haha very true. Envy and ignorance is universal.
I grew up hemmed in by hills and have lived among them always. I feel safest in them, sitting at their valley feet, breathing in their grey air. I feel small inside of them, aware of majesty, struck by insignificance, brought low by awe.
These are not white capped mountains, these are the simple rolling arcs of the Appalachians, The Blue Mountain Range, The Smokey Range, the Adirondacks—these are the mountains that are laid low, and lowered by time. They are old mountains. Whenever I am tempted to think of the small mountains as young ones, I remember instead that it is the peaked, white ones that are still in their formative years. No, these mountains, the hills of my life, they are old, grandfathered in, green and lush, mature.
When my family was still whole and together, we climbed one of these mountains and I stood out on a rock near the edge, beneath me a patchwork of farms, the hills of Bucks County. Not too close to the edge, my dad said, but I hardly heard him. I was small, but I remember that moment clearly. I breathed deep and was so tall, hulking over the miniature barns and greens. I breathed and was so small, a tiny person on a rock jut at the top of a mountain, a speck to any one of the farmers, if that.
Someone told a story after that, about how a friend had gotten caught in a storm up on this mountain, slept under a rock until the forest rangers found them. I imagined that was me as I hiked down the mountain, spying for rocks that would suffice as cover, looking up at the sky, willing it to rain.
I felt safe on that mountain, standing on that rock jut, willing it to rain. I felt safer then than I have felt much of my life since then.
Now I am always looking for mountains.
I grew up hemmed in by hills and have lived among them always. I feel safest in them, sitting at their valley feet, breathing in their grey air. I feel small inside of them, aware of majesty, struck by insignificance, brought low by awe.
These are not white capped mountains, these are the simple rolling arcs of the Appalachians, The Blue Mountain Range, The Smokey Range, the Adirondacks—these are the mountains that are laid low, and lowered by time. They are old mountains. Whenever I am tempted to think of the small mountains as young ones, I remember instead that it is the peaked, white ones that are still in their formative years. No, these mountains, the hills of my life, they are old, grandfathered in, green and lush, mature.
When my family was still whole and together, we climbed one of these mountains and I stood out on a rock near the edge, beneath me a patchwork of farms, the hills of Bucks County. Not too close to the edge, my dad said, but I hardly heard him. I was small, but I remember that moment clearly. I breathed deep and was so tall, hulking over the miniature barns and greens. I breathed and was so small, a tiny person on a rock jut at the top of a mountain, a speck to any one of the farmers, if that.
Someone told a story after that, about how a friend had gotten caught in a storm up on this mountain, slept under a rock until the forest rangers found them. I imagined that was me as I hiked down the mountain, spying for rocks that would suffice as cover, looking up at the sky, willing it to rain.
I felt safe on that mountain, standing on that rock jut, willing it to rain. I felt safer then than I have felt much of my life since then.
Now I am always looking for mountains.
It’s over, echoes in my head. As I flashback to Kevin, telling me he was seeing someone else so it was over between us. I have spent God knows how must on this trip to Colorado and he decide he wants to break up now.
I thought coming here without him would be a good idea but the whole ride up, all I can think of is our last conversation. I have been pacing back and forth at the top of this hill for ten minutes now and the sun is sinking.
Sweat rolls down my neck unto my tank top. I change the song on my Ipod, push my earphones into my ears and begin to jog back to my car.
Thoughts of Kevin bombards me again, but I keep running. In fact, I run harder. I close my eyes briefly. When I open them, I see a man standing a few feet ahead of me on the path.
His arms hang lazily at his side. He appear to be as tall as one of the smaller trees I pass. That little voice inside scream at me to turn back but I keep jogging. My heart beat increase as I pass him. I force a smile. His face remains blank as he stares intensely at me.
My breathing becomes irregular and my knees buckle. I stumble but catch myself before I fall. I stand up and look behind me. He is gone. I yank my earphone out of my ears as my stomach drops, I walk backwards as I franticly look left to right for any signs of him. My back hits something hard and my eyes grow as I turn slowly. A white cloth comes rapidly towards my face as I scream
My head is in shambles. Here I am sitting on the plain white
floor with white tiles that freezes my butt. Thinking about what will I cook for
dinner and how will I manage to go home.
Time flew so fast. Time also make the worst out of my life.
If I just can lengthen that time even for just a minute I will not feel this
empty. I can still manage to go home.
It happened 1 hour from now. You are such a lucky girl I
said to myself. For a 20 year old girl to finish her college degree that is
really amazing and that is me. I am so proud of myself. I even invited all my
classmates for a house party just to release the joy that I can’t bear myself.
I invited everyone except for that person. In that time I feel like I am the king
who did not invite Maleficent to my most important happening in my life.
One hour ago I feel like I am the happiest girl in the
world. College degree is equals to a new me. Goodbye to poverty that that enslaves
me for almost 2 decades of my life. Because it’s a new me I feel like I can
left behind everything. My parents who divorced because of drug addiction. And
my grandma who is the reason for what I am today.
Then 30 minutes ago I received the strangest phone call. Literally
in that one minute of my conversation with my mom I feel like my heart beats so
fast that it will come out of my chest. After that minute I run like a mad cow.
Running so fast that I can even taste the saltiness of my own tears. That’s the
only time in my life that I prayed to God. Asking him if he can freezes the
time just until I reach her. My grandmother. My very kind and sweet
grandmother.
Fifteen minutes ago. I reach my grandmother. God did not
answer my prayers.
Here I am now sitting on the plain white floor with white
tiles that freezes my butt. Thinking about what will I cook for dinner and how
will I manage to go home.
Thinking about the smile of grandma the second she held her
last breath.
The wind blew east. It was cold and freezing.
The Sun hid behind the clouds. I could barely see the ground. Whether it had vegetation or not I had to squint.
I walked up and forward. The ground felt damp and soft.
“Well this just feels safe.”
I cough. Better not tempt the gods.
The cross felt crude hanging by my neck. I make a sign as I walk through. The clouds they were heavier. The sun is still hiding.
It was all snows now on the ground. A snow hare spotted me and ran away. It left bits of beets on the ground.
“Still smells fresh.”
I put inside my backpack but not before tearing away the contaminated part.
My neck cracks as I crane it. “Ah.”
My legs feel cramped. It feels grubby as I massaged it.
I push forward.
The Sun peaked out. My hands become blinders. The snow crunched under my feet as I trek.
I walk past a snow hare. It spotted me and ran away.
“Eh?”
It left pieces of grass shoots on the ground.
“Eww.”
I squash it beneath my feet.
More snow. Less Sun.
I could barely see anything. My watch reads: 3:00 pm.
“4 hours?”
I walk past a boulder. Big and white and mean looking.
I walk slowly.
I past it.
My legs feel cramped. I’m panting, I guess.
“Ah, ha, ah.”
The snow feels damp as I rest. What was I expecting?
My phone bleeps. Messages from my sister.
“Hey Don you okay on your stupid hike? Just come down safely okay or I’ll break your legs so you can’t hike no more baby.”
A small grin escaped my lips.
I type: Hey Sis, thanks for worrying. I’m still alive so don’t worry. I’ll come down and beat up your boyfriend for you so make sure to bring the camera and film it. I Lo…
The phone dies.
Blink. The Sun is gone. All clouds. Deep snow. Deep snowstorm.
“What the fuck?”
I stand up. Or try.
My legs stiff. I can’t move. My hands shake as I massage the life into my feet. It burns.
“Ah.”
A snow hare runs past me. It left pieces of red eggs on the snow floor.
Without my noticing, a deep fog had crept out of the woods next to me and curled straight over my path.
I couldn’t do anything about it. I checked my compass, my map. I was on the right track. I had practised this before. But it was my first time hiking up this one mountain.
There was something – off – about it. A skewed perspective, rocks jutting out at odd angles, no predictability in its shape or size. I had no idea what I’d stumble upon whenever I made a turn.
In fact, that’s the very reason why I barely made any turns, up to now.
But it can’t be that bad, can it?
I thought it was just my nerves getting to me. Hiking up an unknown mountain is like engaging a complete stranger into a conversation. I didn’t know every single bump in the trail, or where the spikiest rocks were. I had an idea. I had a map, after all. But maps are limited, and the only way I can get to know this sullen piece of rock is by exploring it.
So I crossed through the fog.
I couldn’t see everything – just like when a plane goes through a cloud. Judging by the altitude here, that comparison may not be inaccurate.
My Grandpa once joked about that – climbing up to a cloud through a big hill. “You’ll float away on one,” he once said to me. “Climb too high, and they’ll get you. And if you eat it like cotton candy, like the hermits, you’ll fall down.”
He was probably – no, definitely telling me to stay away from the big heights. What would I be able to do? I was only 8, the age when he initiated me into this world – his world – of thick forests, of yearning for the craggy summit. Plus, he was getting a little senile.
I pressed on, thinking about him.
I still keep the pictures we took when we climbed to our first “summit”: a daisy-flecked hill barely fifty feet high. Back then, the height frightened me.
The ground got craggier – more pebbles, a sandy texture. Plants stopped growing. Now, there were no trees. Only bare stone. The sand became more slippery – maybe even wetter.
“Once you climb too high, there’s no knowing what you’ll find.” My Grandpa’s words floated from the fog.
I lost my balance in the sand. It pulled me through, wet and silent fiend.
“You’ll float away on one.”
There was nothing beneath me. There was mist, everywhere, all around me. My mouth opened, surprised, and the fog, thick and bitter-tasting, flew inside.
“Climb too high, and they’ll get you… you’ll fall down.”