Written for Violet’s Challenge where she has asked
us to include the following phrase into our writings;
“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next
great adventure”. Also for Jim’s Song Lyric Sunday
where the challenge is to write about a song that
mentions river/stream/creek/brook. This is my story.
Tag: Adventure
Lucky Cluck
Written for The Unicorn Challenge.
This is my 102nd and final story.
Buried Secrets
Written for WTFAIOA Pick 3 #7,
the challenge is to use at least 3
of the 21 randomly selected words.
I have used all 21 prompt words;
I hope you enjoy my story.
Sky Mountain Pines: Part 2
To read Part 1, click ‘Previous Post’ below
When Ekon and Mosi awoke they were not in the same place as the night before. They were in a higher elevation; it was colder and there were traces of snow. They were laying in a rudimentary tent, comfortably covered in blankets with a small fire nearby. Shiga happily munched on a shrub to which she had been tethered. Besides the change of location, there was a much more obvious and puzzling difference in father and son: both had aged approximately five years. Mosi looked to be about 25 years old and Ekon’s hair and beard were now as grey as the mountain sky.
A group of strange-looking men emerged from the woods and started walking in their direction; immediately Ekon patted his chest, feeling for the vial in his wrap, and was relieved to find it where he always kept it; he placed one drop on the tip of his tongue. The leader of the group, who looked like nothing more than a dead tree branch, spoke in a senescent voice, explaining that two of his people, while out hunting, had found Ekon, Mosi and Shiga unconscious near the brook and brought them back to a safe clearing just outside their village. The brook had been poisoned years ago after a mysterious storm and the tainted waters resulted in a deep, years-long sleep for anyone who drank; there was no antidote that they knew of.
These men were the last of the Twigorian order of monks; they were learned men, wise in the ways of the universe, science and nature. They lived among the members of the ancient San tribe as leaders and teachers. The chief monk assured Ekon and Mosi they were in no danger. When Ekon answered in San, the monks were surprised but quickly discerned that Ekon possessed the power of the Jal’mboor. After the men had talked for a while, a few San women approached; they asked Ekon and Mosi to follow them into the village where they would be able to wash, don clean clothes and eat. Mosi immediately caught the eye of a beautiful young woman called Tayla and they exchanged smiles.
Ekon and Mosi listened as the San people explained their ways. They knew how to preserve food in such a way that it could be dried to last a long time and reduced to a compact size for easy transport and storage. They developed a shield of invisibility which allowed them to disappear at the first sign of danger, thus avoiding any conflict, violence or harm to themselves or their land. They were philosophers and great thinkers but lacked basic skills such as tool-making and construction. Their homes were straw huts and tents in a great state of disrepair and their boats were rotting; everything was falling apart.
Mosi and Ekon told the San people of their quest to reach the top of the Sky Mountain Pines. Many had tried but very few succeeded. It was a treacherous journey but the San promised to help if Ekon and Mosi did something in return: teach them to make tools to build homes, boats and proper implements for hunting, fishing and farming. The pair agreed and spent the next two years working with the San people. During that time Mosi and Tayla fell in love and he promised to return to her after they reached the summit.
The San warned Ekon and Mosi about the Sanguine Precipice, the Gralapthian Dragon Den and the bloodthirsty gorillas known as the Ikorana Buhangi. The monks gave Mosi and Ekon a map to help them safely pass the precipice. In addition, the monks presented them with the invisibility shield to evade the monstrous beasts along their way. Their promise and mission now complete, Ekon and his son prepared to leave the San people the following morning.
Shiga was loaded down with new flasks containing safe, clean water, sacks of food, blankets and the invisibility shield. Bidding Tayla farewell, Mosi and Ekon followed the monks until they were safely on the other side of the poisoned brook. At the last minute, Mosi fetched a dozen old water skins and filled them with tainted water. Now they were truly on their own, prepared but anxious. The higher they climbed the colder it became and they blessed the San women for the warm clothing they now wore.
The pair hiked for days, sometimes not uttering a single word. In one terrifying second, their silence was shattered by horrific screeches and savage bellows. They knew they reached the first deadly threat: the Gralapthian Dragons. The sound of enormous flapping wings filled the sky and father and son covered their ears from the deafening noise. Mosi grabbed the invisibility shield just before catching a glimpse of the nightmarish creatures; he quickly covered himself, Ekon and Shiga, gently stroking the terrified mule’s nose to keep her quiet. The Gralapthian hovered over them, sniffing the air with gargantuan nostrils. Mosi gripped the shield tightly to keep it from flying off in the great gush of wind caused by the dragon’s wings.
The Gralapthian angrily flew away only to return moments later, obviously in the hope of catching their prey unawares. Again Mosi almost lost control of the shield. The Gralapthian spewed fire in different directions and spittle like molten lava rained down but Mosi, Ekon and Shiga stayed put undercover and the dragons missed their mark. Disgruntled, the Gralapthian flew off beyond the high pines. Mosi and Ekon remained where they were until they were sure all was safe. When they felt the time was right, they carefully retracted the shield and secured it onto Shiga’s back. The shield had served them well and once again they silently thanked the monks.
At first Ekon kept a journal of the passing days and nights but eventually lost count. They walked for what seemed an eternity and Mosi questioned himself a thousand times over if this was only a fool’s quest. Lost in their thoughts, Ekon and Mosi were surprised when they came to a divide in the path. Unsure which direction to go, they consulted the San map but it was of no help. Not knowing which way to turn, they finally settled on one of the paths; it proved to be the wrong choice.
Rounding a bend they found themselves face to face with the much-feared kings of the mountain – the Ikorana Buhangi Gorillas. They were hideous beasts, a mutation of a gorilla and a rhinoceros. Ekon froze as the monstrous creatures slowly came closer, snorting loudly, beating their breasts and baring massive teeth. Mosi thought quickly and placed a drop of the Jal’mboor potion on the tip of his tongue.
To the bewilderment of the gorillas Mosi began speaking in fluent Buhangarian: “We are travelers. We seek no trouble. All we wish is to pass by safely.”
The largest of the gorillas growled: “How is it you can speak to us, human?”
“We are magicians. We can offer you whatever you desire. What is your greatest wish?” Mosi asked, covering his fear.
“To rip your body to pieces and eat you!” shouted the Ikorana Buhangi.
“But you can do that any time. Surely there is something you desire above all other things” countered Mosi. “I repeat – what is your greatest wish?”
“ABSOLUTE POWER!” roared the beasts. “RULERS THE UNIVERSE!”
“If that is indeed your greatest wish, I can instantly grant it. It’s as easy as drinking the mystical waters in these skins” and Mosi tossed the twelve old water skins to the gorillas. They greedily swallowed every last drop the tainted brook water and were poisoned before they hit the ground. The earth under their feet shook from the tremendous weight of the gorillas but Mosi and Ekon were safe.
Elated with their quick thinking and great success over the Ikorana Buhangi, Ekon and Mosi quickened their pace as they moved on. Their relief was short lived, however, when they reached the Sanguine Precipice. Never before had they seen such a narrow path or so steep a cliff. Mosi checked the San map and saw a widening in the path about four feet ahead. Crossing that short but deadly span would mean victory or defeat, life or death. They could not make one false move. Mosi believed he and his father could do it but he wasn’t sure about Shiga. The men decided to lighten Shiga’s load by dividing it among themselves. She stood a better chance without the extra weight. Slow as snails they placed one foot before the other, Mosi leading Shiga and Ekon gently pushing her rear.
Just as they reached the safety of the clearing, Shiga lost her footing and landed full force on top of Ekon who howled in agony. Working quickly, Mosi uprighted Shiga and tied her to a tree, then he returned for Ekon. As soon as he tried to lift his father, Ekon screamed and fainted; Mosi immediately knew his father’s back was broken. Mosi gently carried Ekon and laid him in the shade of the Sky Mountain Pines; it was only then that he realized they had made it to the summit. His quest was complete but at what cost?
Slowly, Ekon opened his eyes and whispered “We made it, my son!” Then quietly he exhaled and died. Mosi cried out in grief and Shiga softly brayed where she stood, still tied to a tree. Mosi buried his father on the summit of the Sky Mountain Pines, laying his trusty spear across the grave. Snow began to lightly fall as Mosi packed his belongings and secured them onto Shiga’s back. Now, knowing the safe route, Mosi and Shiga began their trek back to Tayla and home to the Sangala Valley. They left the summit without looking back.
The End
NAR©2024
Music Director Thomas Dausgaard and the Seattle Symphony perform “In the Hall of the Mountain King” from Peer Gynt Suite No. 1 by Edvard Grieg
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
Sky Mountain Pines: Part 1
The sun was just beginning to rise over the Sangala Valley and the day was already warm. Ekon, a middle-aged widower and his son Mosi sat outside as they did each morning eating their breakfast before beginning their long day. It had been just the two of them since Ekon’s wife Bisa died from a mysterious illness several years earlier.
The Sangala Valley is very small but a good home for Ekon and Mosi. There is an abundance of sunlight for growing crops and copious amounts of fruit trees to provide food and much needed shade during the hottest times of the day. Mosi fishes daily in nearby Lake Caballo; he has become quite proficient but Ekon is the hunter, always keeping them well-fed with rabbits, pigs, deer or fowl. They also keep roosters, chickens and have a mare mule for milk.
Three other families live in the valley and share the area peacefully, frequently trading with each other. Ekon and Mosi are fortunate to have a variety of foods to eat; however, they have had little luck growing wheat or other grains – something Bisa excelled at. Sometimes the women bring them flatbread and loaves of Green Mealies, a fluffy corn bread, in exchange for fish or rabbits.
Forests of wild pine trees grow in the distance and the view from the valley is magnificent. One evening as father and son relaxed by their campfire, Mosi expressed his greatest desire: “Father, one day I shall visit the Cloud Mountain Pines.”
“One day?” exclaimed Ekon and laughed heartily. “My son, the pines are hundreds of miles away, a rigorous and dangerous journey of many months. It is a quest, not a day’s adventure.”
“But how can that be, Father?” Mosi questioned. “I can see them as clearly as I can see Lake Caballo.”
“Mosi, the wild pines are enormous and tower over everything” Ekon explained. “Their closeness is a mere illusion.”
“But Father” Mosi argued. “Look across the lake. The pines are plainly visible and the land is flat. We can get there in two days!”
“That is true, my son, but reaching the pine trees on Cloud Mountain is another story. You must give up this fantasy. Now, off to bed for both of us.”
Mosi did not mention the Cloud Mountain Pines again for a long time but he never abandoned his dream. One morning during breakfast Mosi told his father that he had decided he would not be able to rest until he traveled to the woods – or at least tried. Ekon’s first reaction was to once again talk Mosi out of his idea but as he looked at his son he realized he was no longer a child and his mind was made up. Ekon told Mosi he understood the need that drove him and they would make the trek together.
Mosi was overjoyed and immediately began to prepare. Ekon said they must bring only the barest of necessities, their fishing and hunting tools and their mule Shiga. There was also one priceless object which Ekon would never leave behind, a treasure handed down from generation to generation: a tiny vial containing the Tincture of Jal’mboor. One small drop on the tip of the tongue would enable the user to speak in any language chosen and the spell would remain until no longer needed.
They set out the following morning, reaching the woods at dusk on the second day. Mosi was shocked to find how much bigger everything was. Even the smallest trees were taller than him. Ekon and Mosi camped under the moon at the foot of the lake; after an early breakfast of fruit and nuts, they set off. The terrain was flat and easily passable until the fifth day when they came upon a vast, swiftly moving river blocking their path. Having no craft, the duo consulted an old map and chose to travel east. This would take them out of their way but it was the safest route. After many days of walking, they reached a shallow section of the river which they crossed safely.
The new terrain was steeper and difficult. The forests were dense and hardly any light shone through. They were keenly aware of the ominous stillness and Ekon kept his spear at the ready. Without warning the trees began to quake; suddenly hundreds of birds flew out and disappeared. A second later a massive Basambi Kurumandi Tiger appeared. He stared at Ekon and Mosi, deadly pale green eyes observing their every move. He snarled, exposing razor sharp fangs. Ekon whispered for Mosi to stand perfectly still but Shiga was spooked and whinnied loudly. In an instant the tiger leapt but Ekon was ready and felled the giant cat with his trusty spear through its heart. Father and son refilled their water skins from the river and, exhausted, went to sleep far from the felled tiger. They would start fresh in the morning.
END OF PART 1
NAR©2024
This is Yanni with “One Man’s Dream” (Live at the Acropolis 1993)
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
GONE SOUTH
“Lie to me one more time, boy, and I’ll toss that mutt of yours right off the cliff” Sidney Granger threatened his stepson, Harry. “Now, I’m gonna ask you again; where’s my compass?” His upper lip quivered into a sinister smirk.
Harry glanced up at Sidney with an indifferent look on his face. “I don’t know where your stupid compass is, Sidney. Have you tried looking up your ass?” Harry quipped, knowing the comment would only make matters worse. He didn’t care; watching his stepfather get apoplectic was worth it.
Harry immediately regretted what he’d said, not for himself but for his dog. Sidney reacted in his usual way – one swift kick of his hobnail boot directed at Harry’s springer spaniel, Charlemagne. The dog sensed what was coming and quickly darted away, baring his teeth and growling at Sidney. Charlemagne remembered the pain of that boot all too well.
“You got lucky, mongrel. Next time I won’t miss” Sidney snarled. “And, boy, you keep calling me by my name and there’ll be hell to pay. You’re to address me as ’Sir’, is that clear?” Sidney turned and angrily walked away. Harry gave him the finger behind his back.
“Sir!” Harry muttered under his breath. “You’re not in the navy anymore, you bastard! Now you’re just an angry impotent nobody who abuses animals and women.” Harry’s eyes turned dark as he thought of the fresh bruises on his mother’s arms and legs. The man had no conscience.
Barbara Granger fell under Sidney’s spell the first time they met. She always had a weakness for a man in uniform and longed for the life as the wife of a highly regarded military man. Widowed for several years, Barbara happily accepted Sidney’s proposal but her joy was short lived when he was forced to retire due to his age before reaching the coveted position of Rear Admiral. Barbara’s disappointment paled in comparison to Sidney’s humiliation and indignation.
Now Sidney vented his frustration and disillusionment on Barbara and Charlemagne. He tried several times to dominate Harry but the boy’s resilience and stubborn dismissiveness caused Sidney to feel weak and powerless – a role he was not familiar with. He wanted nothing more than to wring Harry’s neck. He knew there was more to the boy than met the eye. Harry would not succumb easily, if at all, and that concept enraged Sidney.
Harry waited until Sidney was far enough away before he whistled for Charlemagne. The two friends walked to a secluded bower on the other side of the large garden. Harry reached into his pocket for his treasured penknife, one of the few possessions he had from his late father. He looked for the small marker he’d carved in a tree, crouched down and snapped open the knife.
Charlemagne sat quietly in the shade as Harry carefully cut a circle in the moss-covered ground, then painstakingly began to dig until the blade of his knife made contact with a rock he had buried. Harry wiped the knife clean and folded it closed, slipping it back into his pocket. He removed the rock and placed it to his side. Reaching into the hole Harry retrieved a dirty burlap pouch and gently loosened the drawstring to reveal Sidney’s precious compass. Even in the shade of the willow tree the compass gleamed.
Just then Charlemagne began growling and barking; instinctively Harry knew Sidney was standing behind him.
“You thieving little liar!” Sidney spat out furiously. Harry reached for the rock but Sidney kicked it out of Harry’s hand, causing him to cry out in pain. Harry managed to whistle and Charlemagne lunged at Sidney with a force so powerful he fell backwards. The spaniel sank his teeth into Sidney’s neck. Writhing on the ground, Sidney managed to break away from Charlemagne who relentlessly attacked again in an effort to protect Harry.
With arms flailing Sidney edged closer to the side of the cliff but once again freed himself from the clutches of the dog. Harry grabbed the rock from the ground and with a mighty force flung it at Sidney, hitting him squarely on his forehead. Stunned and bleeding, Sidney reeled and careened off the edge, bouncing off the boulders on his way down and disappearing into the choppy sea.
Charlemagne ran to Harry who scooped him up in his arms. “Good boy” Harry said soothingly as they walked to the cliff’s edge. The only sign of Sidney was one hobnail boot sticking out of a crevice. Harry realized he was still clutching Sidney’s compass. Glancing at it, he smiled slightly. How fitting that Sidney had gone south.
NAR © 2023
This is “Lies” by the Knickerbockers:
SEPTEMBER HEATWAVE
“Scorching weather we’re experiencing, Maureen. Unheard-of for September. You and Jamie might want to consider postponing your holiday for a while. As you know, your Aunt Camilla detests air conditioning and those wretched noisy fans; I fear you will be terribly uncomfortable here. We’re off to Spain in October and staying through Christmas and the New Year, a long-overdue visit with our darling Penelope and son-in-law Alejandro. Aunt Camilla says she’s dying to see Cherbourg again and has her heart set on February. I think perhaps April would be a more suitable time for you to visit, Maureen dear. Springtime here is brilliant, as you undoubtedly recall. Do let us know your decision. Hope New York is treating you well. Love to Jamie and Josie. –Uncle George”
I stared at my uncle’s email in dismay. It had been eight years since I left England for New York. Jamie and I met at work; we fell in love and were married the following year. Neither of our families were able to attend our wedding. Jamie’s family is from Scotland so we decided to kill two birds with one stone by spending our honeymoon in Wales. We set aside two weeks to visit Jamie’s family in Perth, my parents in Newcastle Upon Tyne as well as my aunt, uncle and cousin Penelope in Kent.
Now I was looking forward to a return trip, an end of summer vacation and Uncle George was going on about an oppressive September heatwave. Having to postpone our vacation until April was dreadfully disappointing.
We had just booked our flight that morning and made reservations at some of the many attractions in the area. Our plans included a visit to Canterbury Cathedral, Port Lympne Animal Reserve, Chiselhurst Caves and Hever Castle with its incredible labyrinthine gardens. I could just picture our five-year-old daughter Josie running through the vast field of mazes, giggling at every dead end.
I knew Aunt Camilla and Uncle George would be happy to watch Josie for a few hours, giving me and Jamie a chance to go on a tour of Shepherd Neame Brewery. Their menu of ales and lagers was extensive, each one brewed to perfection. I must admit after years in New York I preferred my beer served ice cold in a frosty mug – not at the traditional ‘English cellar temperature’. I never did care for the taste of a tepid brew and finding a crisp cold beer could prove challenging. However, with so many brews to choose from at Shepherd Neame, I was willing to bet that wouldn’t be a problem.
When I told Jamie about my uncle’s email, he reminded me that we had 24 hours to cancel our flight and reservations without incurring a penalty. The first thing we needed to do was check with the airline, then we could look into our other plans. Lady Luck was definitely on our side; we were able to reschedule our flight and all our activities without any problems. In fact, our new agenda was going to be even better than originally planned.
Hever Castle had recently opened an area called “Adventure Playground” where kids ruled the castle. Josie could discover and explore Tudor Towers with its 2 metre high willow structure, a giant sandpit and grassy mounds with hidden tunnels. There were secret dungeons, moats and turrets plus climbing frames, swings and slides. Josie would never want to leave!
Perhaps that image was the seed that started sprouting in my brain!
I began entertaining serious thoughts about moving back to England permanently; the list of positives far outweighed the negatives. I had no family tying me to The States. My parents chose to retire in Tuscany so visiting them from the UK would be an easy jaunt and Josie would finally get to spend time with her grandparents. Jamie, I knew, would love the idea of being close to his family, not to mention the fact that his firm had a branch office in London. When Josie was eligible to start first grade at age six there would be no shortage of good schools to choose from. Looking over my list, I could see no viable reason for us to remain in New York.
When I brought up the subject with Jamie, he was enthusiastic about the prospect of returning to the UK. It would be an experience of a lifetime for Josie, not to mention an exceedingly happy surprise for our families when they learned we’d be moving back home.
Now that the decision was made, we were more excited than ever! I smiled when I realized this all came about because of an unseasonal September heatwave. Who knew all our grousing about the oppressive heat would have such a happy ending! The most difficult part would be keeping our plans a secret from the family. The next morning I responded to Uncle George’s email:
“Wonderful news, Uncle George! We had no trouble at all changing our travel plans to April. After months and months of FaceTiming, Josie can’t wait to finally meet you and Aunt Camilla in person, not to mention her grandparents! Jamie and I are so looking forward to being with family again; we’ve missed you all terribly. I’ve saved the best for last but only a hint for now: we have a big surprise planned which I’ll share with you in good time. Are you curious? Do try to have patience, dear Uncle George! Stay cool and give our love to Aunt Camilla and Penelope. Till next time ~ Maureen.”
NAR © 2023
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