In Response to Bill’s Challenge: The Woman on the Mountaintop. Prose, by Manatita

The old man sat on a wooden stool, in a busy area of Frazackstan Airport. Head down, and pressing against the palms of his hands and knees, he felt lonely, forlorn and afraid. In this sad state of desolation, nothing was to his satisfaction –the coffee and croissant tasted awful, and the air was thick with smoke. Here in Terminal 2, everyone and everything felt hostile, and the dark drums within the restless minds of the unshaven Frazacks, echoed of every surface, and made him long for home.

Seemed like he’d been climbing mountains all his life – Dr Spazek – and somehow, this one did not appear any less arduous. He had just returned from Arstraglia, where he carried and cremated the remains of his dear wife Betsy, who had recently passed away in her sleep. Heart attack, they said it was! Now as he mulled over the circumstances of her demise, numerous reminiscences began to appear fleetingly in his troubled mind.

More mountains, he thought, but at the same time as he was dealing with this reflection, mercifully, another kind of mountain entered into his conscious mind.

It was William Holland, (aka Billybuc) his friend, who had told him the story of ‘the woman on the mountaintop.’ Now it came as a welcome solace; vigour entered his body, and he longed to journey home. Dr Spazek remembered the ethereal photo that Bill had shown him – that enchanting figure of ‘the woman on the mountaintop.’ To him she represented hope, that soaring attribute, that undying and much needed golden scepter which he yearned to hold on to, to soothe and calm his Spirit.

He could see her standing there, hands folded above her head, as if gazing at the infinite; it’s numerous possibilities. Once more she shone with radiance in his thoughts; danced her way into the cobwebs of his mind to grant him peace. Feeling better, he began to remember the configuration of white clouds; the vastness and freedom of the blue sky, as he wept with relief. Somewhere in the core of his being, the fragrant smell of the valley came to him; he saw the silhouette of the distant mountains, and dreamt of future sunbeams.

Such a fine woman! He listened and re-told the story to himself a thousand times! He saw her feeding the fawns; talking to the foliage; whispering comforts to the yearling antelopes beneath her feet. He reached into her Spirit, and felt the longing of a universal heart, bleeding for the joys of plenitude. There she stood, a garland inside his heart, dreaming of supernal beauty; with a large and magnanimous heart, embracing love, enchantment and delight…

All of a sudden, the old man stood bolt upright from his wooden stool! This touching story; this wondrous image; this vision of the beyond, of what could be, now stirred the life-energy in his every bone! Once more he began to look at possibilities; the audacity to dream; to fight on; he longed to share and merge, like a balm of Light, to the cosmic reality beyond. Slowly he walked through customs, headed for the gates, then the runway …

With a renewed lease of life, he strode into his plane, took his seat in a far corner near the window and headed home.

-Manatita, Bard of Solace, 4^th November, 2014. Air France passenger end route to London. ©Copyrighted.

Bill tells us that this Hub was inspired by Ann's own Challenge included here:

THE RICHNESS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE: What does it Mean to You as a Writer? Learn it Well; Use it to

Indeed he said that he was 'blown away' by it. Ann is an excellent writer and a noble Soul, and well worth reading:

I note that some really good writers have contributed to this challenge also. I commend you all, and now include the second of my humble inputs, a short story in prose. In Joy and Light.