The path less gravelled
- 1 hour ago
- 10 min read
“Ha! You chumps!” the Witch interrupted. “There’s a parking lot a couple miles that way, but the road to get there is closed. You’re trapped!”
“Maybe there’s a longer way around.” Mom tickled the Witch to put her in a better mood. “Any trail has got to be safer than what we just came up.”
“You’re ten thousand feet in the sky and everyone went home because of the smoke,” the Witch scoffed. “What are you going to do, fly home?”
“I don’t see a way out,” Mom said to me as her eyes continued begging the Witch to say it ain’t so. “I know it’s early, but we haven’t seen anybody else coming this direction all day. I don’t think we can count on anyone coming along to help us. As sketchy as it was, I think we’re gonna have to find our way out of this one on our own.” Her face went greyer than the smoke as she turned back toward The Inevitable. “Let’s hope the trail is easier to find on the way down. We’ll take it nice and slow. Inch by inch if we need to.” Then, so she would have something to live for that wouldn’t be too disappointing if she died and left it unfinished, she added, “If we survive, at least we’ll still have time to do laundry when we get home.”
We walked along the lake to where it became a stream, which became a waterfall, which fell off the same cliff that we had to climb back down. When we reached the edge, Mom leaned forward to look at the impossible path below us. She jumped back, startled.
My hackles prickled.
