Noah always says,
Noah always says,
“You can’t move mountains, but mountains can move you.”
Cole always replies,
“We can try, can’t we?”
But what do you pack to move a mountain? To scale a vertical slab, a stone conquered only by the quaking of earth itself. With rope and harness alone is insane.
“No rope. No harness.” Cole’s on a suicide mission, bent on toting only confidence in his pack.
“Unwise,” calls Noah.
“Brave,” shouts Cole.
Cole ascends the sheer rock face. Thick, grey clouds watch from above, threatening to add to the beads of sweat that weigh on Cole’s brow. Winds play viciously around his hair, biting the veil from his courage to reveal bleeding hubris in its stead.
"What a rush!"
What defiance!
The mountain rumbles, shaking pebbles from its peak. "I'm moving it, Noah! I'm moving the mountain!"
All the chalk in the world won’t keep man affixed to rock.
Cole flails
towards
hard
ground,
the wind refuses to catch him.
With a shattering crunch,
he lands, his femur cracked through flesh and skin.
You can’t move mountains, mountains move you.
A bit of a departure from the comics and cartoons I usually post but, hey, who doesn’t like a little hubris with their shortstack?
I originally submitted “Noah always says,” to the 2024 NYC Midnight 250 Word Microfiction Challenge in November, based on the prompt: action/adventure about a breaking bone using the word “wise.”
Stay tuned for the next round’s piece (hint: it’s a micro-horror)!