Wednesday, 18 February 2015

Oliver Cr's 500 words




Dreams

It was the trip of a lifetime; the stuff of dreams. Dad and I were walking in the Himalayas. Our aim was to follow in the footsteps of climbers like Edmund Hillary. Not climb Mount Everest (that would be a bit much for my legs!), but to trek through the foothills below. We had been walking now for three days and we were staying in a hostel overnight. I was exhausted and fell straight to sleep or so I thought…

Suddenly in the darkness a noise disturbed me, a low, rumbling growl. I looked over at my dad but he was still asleep. I slipped out of bed and made my way over to the window and peered out. I could see huge, three-toed footprints leading into the distance! Quietly I reached for my thick coat and boots and, not daring to breath, eased open the door that led outside.

I followed the footprints across the great expanse of snow that led to the base of the mountain that loomed over the valley. The footprints seemed to lead up the mountain and spiraled away until they were lost from sight among the clouds. I saw a huge blurred, indistinct figure ahead and I started to walk quicker.
                                                                                                                                                             
Soon I began to climb. It was hard work as the stones were icy and loose under foot. It was a treacherous path and the wind was starting to pick up and blow parts of the footprints away. I did not want to think about what would happen if I fell from the path. A grunt came from high up to my left. I hesitated. What was I doing? There was no going back! I had to know!

I began climbing again. The biting cold was worse up here and made my hands raw and my head throb. The wind howled like an express train and my thick coat seemed to offer no protection. I knew that if I fell now I would not get up again. A roar ripped through the night disorientating me and making my head spin, my hand went numb and slipped from the ledge I was holding. My arms windmilled as I stood teetering on the edge of the path. Then, just as I fell, I saw it.  Shaggy, pale fur and a stature like a human, it towered above me. Its eyes were a brilliant blue, and its hands were like shovels as they swiped through the swirling snow, I gasped in wonder as I went plummeting through the air. It was a yeti! A real, live yeti!

I saw a giant hand reach out through the whirling storm and felt my arm in an iron hold. Everything went black.

“Oliver, Oliver”, I heard Dad’s voice. I was in my bed, dazed and confused.  Where was I? What had just happened? Had I just dreamed all that? I rubbed my arm. It was sore and my memory was too vivid for it to be just a dream…


No comments:

Post a Comment

Please ensure all comments are appropriate to the aims of the Blog.

All comments are moderated