The Montrose Precipice
I
It all went back to the summer of 1932 when tragedy struck; its affect was wide-spread in the community, most of it at least. Little occurred in Montrose, Colorado, but what it lacked excitement, it made up for in character. Stories arose, those about the precipice, the ancient precipice, home to a demon, or so they say.
Often pondering what stood at the base of the precipice. My imagination ravenously consumed the mystery that shrouded the region. Venturing close, Michael and I would often creep towards the cliff edge, eyes clenched like vices.
I was described as eccentric, Michael was my only friend, but his companionship was just as much as a burden than a saviour. I never understood why people hated Michael, I was constantly …show more content…
Venturing there could only suffice this desire. I had to escape the life of hell. Today I will face the precipice.
II
Journeying down to the precipice base was always going to be a struggle, 5km of steep and treacherous rocky terrain. Grazed arms and legs were luckily the only outcome from slipping and sliding. No rockslides. The thought of the rocks cascading from above sent shivers up my spine. The canyon weaved from left to right, slithering like a snake. The dense forest added to the eeriness. Places so dense, crawling was necessary.
Crawling stealthily, my smooth skin dragged along the autumnal leaves and dirt. My wiry legs easily manoeuvred around the trees and obstacles. It was easy to believe this track was seldom-used. Dancing, the trees frolicked in the zephyr, haunting me in my acts. My mind was inundated by possible scenarios, I grew restless.
Rustling, the bush had thwarted my train of thought as my head flicked around to find a rabbit, testing my awareness. So innocent, so placid.
I had to rest. Michael was the epitome of toughness, it was all he knew. Hiking with
I
It all went back to the summer of 1932 when tragedy struck; its affect was wide-spread in the community, most of it at least. Little occurred in Montrose, Colorado, but what it lacked excitement, it made up for in character. Stories arose, those about the precipice, the ancient precipice, home to a demon, or so they say.
Often pondering what stood at the base of the precipice. My imagination ravenously consumed the mystery that shrouded the region. Venturing close, Michael and I would often creep towards the cliff edge, eyes clenched like vices.
I was described as eccentric, Michael was my only friend, but his companionship was just as much as a burden than a saviour. I never understood why people hated Michael, I was constantly …show more content…
Venturing there could only suffice this desire. I had to escape the life of hell. Today I will face the precipice.
II
Journeying down to the precipice base was always going to be a struggle, 5km of steep and treacherous rocky terrain. Grazed arms and legs were luckily the only outcome from slipping and sliding. No rockslides. The thought of the rocks cascading from above sent shivers up my spine. The canyon weaved from left to right, slithering like a snake. The dense forest added to the eeriness. Places so dense, crawling was necessary.
Crawling stealthily, my smooth skin dragged along the autumnal leaves and dirt. My wiry legs easily manoeuvred around the trees and obstacles. It was easy to believe this track was seldom-used. Dancing, the trees frolicked in the zephyr, haunting me in my acts. My mind was inundated by possible scenarios, I grew restless.
Rustling, the bush had thwarted my train of thought as my head flicked around to find a rabbit, testing my awareness. So innocent, so placid.
I had to rest. Michael was the epitome of toughness, it was all he knew. Hiking with