In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Choose Your Adventure.”
Nearly finished now, and it will be over. This thing finished and I am so much more the finisher. Just a climb, only a skin rub. It will heal, it all heals. But healing means paying with time and pain and lack of choice. I could stop now and take the damage as it stands. Call it fitness. Call it a walk in the park. And that is me so much more the quitter. Failing in this one short task.
And there is the sight and breeze that exposes my previous hope as a false finish. Change in air pressure and it can only be one more brow to push on through. It is good to be higher, worth turning a soar neck to look behind but not a time to rest. The grass is still boggy and it is not raining, not raining yet but it’s there as a promise on the wind. Sleet maybe, all the seasons on an April day in Scotland.
My leg is tired but plenty left in the tank if I take it steady. Going down there will be a toll but I can take rests. Sunshine over there in great white streaks. Not here, here now there is sleet. Oh well all part of the story.
The grass thrives, what creatures thrive with it?
Nearly finished now
I believe could strangle father Joseph. God forgive me with the Christening coming up but he has gone so pious, so high and bloody mighty. Tosser, he is just a jumped up little man. He was always a terrible wanker at school and now he is the priest and I have to listen him. I want our little Mike to be brought up in God’s Holy Church and I go to mass and observe lent and pay in my wee envelope but the priests wants to eat me out of house and home as well. The bishop should kick his arse for him. Telling me off for every thing I think about never mind do and all the time eating my best apple pie. Anyway I should hold my tongue, I’ve promised to clean the alter in the morning before I go to work. And I have some extra prayers tonight.