The Climb

He climbs the mountain every day, yet every day the mountain changes.  He tries to start each climb anew, but often pains lingering from the prior days trek still weigh heavy on his body, on his mind. The mountain he ascends is magical and cursed; sometimes he can feel the demons stirring beneath his feet as he pushes forward and up, toward the top, to the end of his climb, trying, not always succeeding, to not fall backward or let the dark things lurking beneath grab hold of him and anchor him in place.  On those days, when the demons bony black fingers reach up through the cracks in the rocks and wrap themselves around his legs, digging their nails into his bones, he begins a struggle, both physical and mental, to break free from their burning grasp.  Most times he is able to break free with as little as a swift kick; some times the fingers turn into hands, then into arms, and the nothing in the cracks they protrude from ensnares him.  It's those days that he feels as if the weight of the world is holding him down, aiding the evil extremities in their plight to claim him as one of their own, to pull him through the cracks, into the darkness he tries so hard to avoid.  Luckily he's always survived; even on the worst days, when he felt the fingers tightening around his throat, vision fading, about to let the darkness have him, he always pulled a fire out from within him, burned away the claws and continued on his journey.

He's aware of how easy it is to lose track of the path upward, to miss checkpoints he thought he'd reach with no problem because a path looked easier in a fleeting moment of exhaustion.  Some days it takes every bit of strength not to set up camp for good, to settle out of convenience; the land may be flat (at the moment) and the food may be plentiful (for now), but then he looks up again, into the vast expanses of the mountain, still unable to see the top, knowing that its there and that it's glorious. Nothing worth fighting for is ever easy, nothing settled for ever sticks, and giving up was never an option; its his mantra, and it fuels him through those times of doubt that the top is too far, that the best isn't worth it, that he doesn't deserve the Eden that surely rests at the top for all the stumbles, near misses and breaks he took from his expedition. "Is there even an Eden?" he would ask himself sometimes.  There must be because what would be the point of the climb and all its adversity.

He made a conscious decision to make this climb alone early on.  He found that almost any problem encountered was complicated by companions, be they family, friends or lovers.  There were a handful of time's he would let other travelers join paths with him to aid each other on their journeys.  Some for brief moments, even fewer for extended periods, but inevitably they parted ways for one reason or another.  There were those who's own paths dominated his to the point where he didn't recognize the mountain anymore, others drained his energy and patience enough where the only way out was to let the darkness take hold just long enough to push them away, and still even others were simply not as prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead, so he left them in the night.  It's all he knew, it was how he learned to adapt from a young age, that those who should be there to hold down the tent when the winds picked up at night almost never were, and those that were would steal your rations until they had their fill, then disappear.  Although it happened more often then not, he always preferred some company now and again, so he would take on those willing until history repeated itself; until he found the one.

The one had been travelling a somewhat parallel road to his on the mountain, their paths have even crossed from time to time, but like two ships passing in the night, there was only a brief acknowledgment before continuing onward, both absorbed by the harrowing tasks they had at hand. He always wondered, but the opportunity never presented itself, if the one would be a good companion.  Then one night amidst a particularly foggy sky the two once again crossed paths.  At first he was bewildered, but riding a wave of confidence he began to inquire more than he had at previous meetings. Questions led to conversation, conversation to laughs, and eventually to a unity...alas another companion; THE companion he had been waiting for, the one.

Almost instantly the journey became more bearable.  Hardships were lessened, certain goals became clearer while other less daunting and unimportant ones seemed to vanish from the course all together. Together they tackled obstacles from the minor to the path altering; and no matter the size they seemed to overcome them all.  They were not without their troubles, though who is?  Especially with the terrain that they walked on, but onward they traveled, each tribulation reinforcing the strength of their companionship.  For the first time he could visualize the top, almost see it peeking through the clouds, breaking through the dust, as welcoming and as glorious as he imagined; even more so.  The path ahead, although rocky in places, was manageable in the least, and the sun seemed that much brighter, felt that much warmer on his face.  He looked up, then at his companion, grabbed her hand, and together they walked forward, upward, toward the inevitable end, heads held high, constantly looking for the top of the world.