Salvation

In the mountains

There many tales of a man who lives in the mountains. A man whose name is unknown, whose appearance is unknown, whose purpose is unknown. All that is known is that he's a French war veteran who lives in a manor in the mountains.

Speaking of mountains, that's what I'm about to climb up. I find myself surrounded by trees. Huge towering trees that seem endless. Leaves drop from there oak like branches and birds fly from nest to nest, from tree to tree.Damn this dismal weather as well.A grey sky lies above me with drops of rain falling from it.The huge patches of grass and exactly helping either.The soft soil is slowly turning into mud,and the cold snow into slush.It as if the slush is unwillingly dragging itself down the mountain.I will have to be careful here,never before have a climbed a mountain,a tree yes but never a mountain.Well,here goes nothing.

I make a pathetic attempt at climbing up the first time by just throwing my self on it and trying to drag myself up.Huh,second attempt.I know better this time,I secure myself a foothold.I then proceed to dig my nails in as much as humanly possible without breaking them.Again I slip down.I make several more attempts at this but it's simply to steep and the weather isn't exactly on my side.Neither is time.Its getting dark.

There must be an alternative root,a path maybe of steps.If not I shall simply have to persevere with climbing,but I'm no hiker so I won't joke myself.I didn't realise how numb my hands really were until now.It comes as no surprise,they've been latched on to snow and slush for the best part of twenty minutes.Maybe I should set up camp for the night,I have food,a blanket,and I could easily start a fire.

No.The sooner I get up there the better.He's my only hope,my salvation.Assuming he's real that is.And this isn't just a huge false rumour.
Anyway,back to climbing.With a new sense of determination,I get a foothold on a large rock and grab on to another one with one hand.I haul myself upwards and grab onto another rock,and another and another.This continues for about half an hour.But finally,I haul myself over the edge of the cliff and lie down on the cold stone,which comes as a relief to my sweaty body.

I sit up as a bead of sweat runs down my forehead.I'm still panting like a dog.With a new sense of pride and accomplishment I get to my feet and cautiously walk forwards,I'm not seeing a manor anywhere.Well,I must give it chance.Picking up speed a little bit I continue to walk along  the cliff,praying that I will see the manor.Hoping.

I'm starting to get cold,and a misty darkness is surrounding the area and myself.I need to hurry.Ten more minutes of relentless searching go by and I'm about to give up when I see it.The manor,dead ahead.Almost as if it's been waiting for me.I approach it's huge oak door and as I'm about to open it my mind shrouds itself in doubt,is this the right thing to do?

No.I won't question myself now.Its to late to turn back.My hands tremble as I knock on the door.And a sense of nervous dread rises in my head.