EightMDB's Collection of Snippets

The deep biting cold is overwhelming. My eyes blur as I raise my head to look at the removed peak.

The snow covered peak on the lone mountain. It contrasts deeply with the surrounding sky, a deep blue and orange. I’ve seen at the base camp, in the evenings, the orange overtakes blue to create an array of wonderful colors.

‘I’m almost at the peak.’ I think, hyping myself up to continue from this short break I’ve given myself.

The air is so very thin. Sometimes it feels like I can’t get a breath in. My muscles feel weaker and sorer than ever before.

This long journey is coming to a close. Grasping my ice picks, I use them to grasp the ice and pull myself upwards to the encroaching peak.

With a final grunt, I push myself onto the highest solid ground. Rolling over I gasp for air.

“It’s done.” I say heavily, “I’ve done it,” and as I stare into the horizon, still on the ground, I think to myself, ‘Is this it? Is this all I’ve accomplished?’ The feeling of pride and triumph at overcoming a task deemed impossible, disappearing leaving behind the same feeling of apathy and muted sadness.

And as I stand up, I find myself thinking nothing at all. There is no thought on the journey, on the friends I made traveling to this unexplored mountain, on the experiences I saw along the way.

Only the deep dark, of the apathy at myself and others.

“This is a good site as any” I say, still short of breath.

There is no final thought to think, no final breath I take, no final words to say.

And so, as I step over the edge, I appreciate the sight before me. Of the sky blending from a light blue and orange mix to the gold of the setting sun.

The final thoughts and actions of a person diseased. This final triumph before them, accomplished. And still, their final hope of everlasting feeling taken from them.

This was their final triumph.