In under 500 words, and using no more than 10 adjectives, write the story of your escape from great danger.
Sweat drips into my eyes. I grip the cliff face in front of me with knees and stomach. My elbow is anchored into an undersized root while I search in vain for a handhold. My face itches where a clod of clay has come undone a moment before and launched itself at me. The thought in my head is: I don’t want to die; I’m only fourteen.
My cousin Kathie hovers 30 or 40 feet below. She is pacing back and forth along the gravel riverbed, craning her neck upward, wanting to be helpful but by now as frightened as I am. The plan was that she would follow me up the cliff, but I’ve quickly discovered that this climb is a disaster. Kathie waits anxiously below, willing me to make it unscathed to the top.
I don’t like my choices. Clearly, one is to keep climbing, but I just can’t feel or see a place where I can anchor a hand or foot.
Another is to hang there until rescued. But as I’m wearing out fast, that’s out of the question.
Backing down also isn’t an option. I destroyed my key footholds on the way up the crumbly clay face. There are no rocks and tree roots behind me.
Jumping is also not an alternative. Kathie isn’t much more than a speck below me.
I’m about as frightened as I’ve ever been in my life.
“You have to go UP,” Kathie shouts.
I’m afraid to speak for fear of dislodging my grip.
Her voice comes again from below. “You have to make it up another few feet; there’s a log you can grab. Then you’re at the top and you can just pull yourself over.” I twist my head to look up. I can see the protrusion she’s talking about, perilously out of reach.
I have to choose. So I choose. Up.
I send out a prayer. I scratch out a clod of clay at the top of my reach and grab the gap. I swing a shoe up onto the root where my elbow has been. I glance up at the log, now less than three feet away. I throw my weight onto the morsel of root and lunge for the log. To my relief I catch it in my fingertips, then claw it into my arms as I swing in mid-air.
I quickly discover problems with that log.
One is that it’s rotten. It won’t last long and I’m going to have to move fast.
Another is that it’s filled with ants, who spill down my arms in outrage.
But I grip that rotting, stinging log as if it’s Elvis Presley and kick my way up and over the top. One last clod tumbles to the gravel below.
I lay for a second at the top, patting the earth and gasping. Only then do I really notice the ants. I peel off my shirt and pants and do the Ant Dance, screaming with pain and joy and waving madly at Kathie.
I know it’s a long walk around the river bend until the bank flattens out and I can meet up with her, but that’s all right with me. Right now, I could run to the moon.
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5 comments:
Eve says,
Danger and a narrow escape, just what teen-agers thrive on, except in the face of death or disabling injury....
You told this hair-raising story so well, Heather, without the embellishment of many adjectives, and with plenty of simple noun-verb-noun sentences.
I particularly liked the "Indiana Jones" touch of the ant-infested log.
Not sure about Elvis, though. Maybe Brad Pitt?
For me this reads like a mini coming-of-age story. It's a time when a young girl takes on more than she can chew and discovers that she is up to it. The danger is not imaginary - a fall could really end her life. And doing nothing is not an option.
You might consider simplifying some of the prose. "protrusion" for example isn't likely to be the words of a 14 year old. (On re-reading it, I think that was the only 'big' word used.
Easy read too.
Damn the blog just blew up and I lost all my comments. So this is a great read, so like kids to get into such a mess. the 14 year old gets stuck half way up the cliff, up is the only option.
I absolutely loved the quirky addition of the ants. So Heather!! The story is really easy to read and in the final onslaught up the cliff was absolutely there on the cliff. I love your use of vocabulary, good use of nouns. Love morsel of root.
I found para about negotiating with the log a bit unreal. I couldn't get any foot (except Eves!) getting into the space where her elbow was. Also I think a branch would have been better than a log. For me a log is a loose thing and would have tumbled down the mountain.
Great ending with the ants and running to the moon.
Damn the blog just blew up and I lost all my comments. So this is a great read, so like kids to get into such a mess. the 14 year old gets stuck half way up the cliff, up is the only option.
I absolutely loved the quirky addition of the ants. So Heather!! The story is really easy to read and in the final onslaught up the cliff was absolutely there on the cliff. I love your use of vocabulary, good use of nouns. Love morsel of root.
I found para about negotiating with the log a bit unreal. I couldn't get any foot (except Eves!) getting into the space where her elbow was. Also I think a branch would have been better than a log. For me a log is a loose thing and would have tumbled down the mountain.
Great ending with the ants and running to the moon.
Kerry says:
A couple of girls try their skills at climbing cliffs with near disastrous results.
Thrilling story, Heather. And I counted less than ten adjectives. You set the scene up well for us so it's clear there really isn't any other option but up. I'm so afraid she's going to fall.
I can't quite envisage that final grasp and kick over the top but, hey, what's artistic licence for anyway.
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