Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Beautiful and Deadly

It's another world, separate from our own, where the air is thin, the clouds are near, and every color is more alive, more vibrant than the colors we know. No streets, no cars, no blaring of horns mar the silent solitude of these rocky peaks.

Winds whip across the mountain heights, tearing at the stubborn trees, shredding their foliage, and never granting them permission to grow any higher than a lawn shrub. The force of that wind carries dirt and dust across the peak, and blasts the faces of the rocks smooth and bare.

Rain on these peaks quickly turns to glistening icicles on the rough barked trees. The sun catches these icicles, and turns the peak into a light show to rival anything we could create. But the rain doesn't just fall on the trees; it also forms into sheets of ice stretching out across the bare rocks, making the ridges treacherous for climbers.

The mountain says to us: Yes, I am beautiful. But I am also deadly. Treat me with respect.

We hear her message, but with all our arrogance, we ignore her.

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