Lookback

Always remember to look back when you’re on a switchback. You want to see where you’ve been.

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Every morning I wake up and write the first thing that comes to mind, then write a story around it. This type of writing is sometimes called ’flash fiction’. This is Flash Fiction February. Get a book and have a complimentary paid subscription. →https://ycr.info←
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Easytopian!

The massive Eagle circled above a swatch of trees. Greg sat on a flat at the top of a mountain. At eleven thousand feet, he could see worlds. He could see the Eagle, below him, flying over some woods as it hunted.

On his way up the switchback, Greg saw a wildlife path cut into the hard, dry, rocky soil. A definite path where both cats and the wild goats traverse. That path cut through the switchback trail for a few turns. The age of the droppings told an interesting story, like maybe it would be a good thing for Greg to get back down the mountain before dusk.

At various points throughout the hike, Greg would stop and get good lookouts. That’s an important thing to remember to do. He saw places where he had been earlier, from where he looked up to where he hiked now. The views were rather incredible. To be at such an elevation that the view is mountains, below.

Greg kept climbing the switchback, because he was told there was a flat at the top of the mountain, a meadow. A meadow that was a clearing surrounded by trees. At an elevation of nearly eleven thousand feet, that had to be something remarkable.

As Greg continues this long switch back hike, he notices on the north end turns, he’s seeing the tops of trees. He continues a couple more turns to realize that he’s on the edge of a hollow. From where he parts from the hollow, he can see right down to it’s center. It’s a very tiny, grassy little valley hollowed out in the middle of this massive rock. From thirty thousand feet, it’s a diminutive divot. From where Greg could now see it, it’s quite inviting, and not inaccessible. That, however, would have to be for another day.

By his best estimate, based on the time he started and the speed he’s moving, Greg would reach the end of this path in about twenty minutes. He pressed on, and the trail, even as he came closer to the top, grew more covered and shaded. Due to the nature of the tree life, he had to do a lot more ducking and maneuvering through this part. The trees were thicker, and more diverse than various coniferous. He turned around to look back, but the cover was dense. He could barely see through the leaves six feet from his face.

It was definitely cooler than just 100 or so feet below him, out of sight from the sun, at such a high elevation. He became mindful of the importance to breathe, to stay focused on the ground in front of him, and to make sure he was all the way down by dusk. He had time.

Finally, he can see the little incline that leads to the meadow he had heard about. He finds himself above the treeline he was just battling, and looking back from here, he’s all the way in the sun again, and he sees a completely different vista. He knows there is only one thing left to do, take that little path.

The meadow is exactly as it was described. There are benches people built from the trees right there. Also, a rock garden. As he walks further, it really is quite a phenomenal location. The meadow is five inch high wild grass, with a lot of places to sit, as people have made all manner of stools to sit, and poles for leaning, and a pile of walking sticks. Off to the north treeline, there’s another lookout area, different views than from the switchback. Greg sits, and leans on a tree and watches a massive Eagle circle a swatch of trees, below him.

The End
624 Words