It shaking, to a wall of cold stone

It was a cold winter day in rural Canada,and Dylan Ragson was preparing to embark on an adventure. He knew it would bedifficult and stress filled, yet if he didn’t attempt the journey then he couldface starvation.

He lived alone. There was no one to wish him good-bye, no oneto help him put his winter gear on. He gripped the handle of his front door,stepped out, immediately a cold winter wind hit him in the face. Should he goback? No. Dylan looked straight ahead and was now more determined than ever toaccomplish his goal. As the wind increased and a blizzardpelted Dylan with snow, he took a moment to rest while on his climb.

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He reachedout, his hand shaking, to a wall of cold stone to check his balance, his anklesstarted to twist as they were being forced into the holes in the rock. Quietly,almost impossibly through the intense wind, he gasped for breath. It was asthough the air he was breathing had started thinning, his muscles and jointsached like never before. He must climb on further, he can’t stop here; it’s notsafe so he must go on.

Dylan started to feel the pressure on his shoulders fromthe thin straps of an old backpack he had brought with him. The snow waspilling up and was starting to get heavy. He began once more up the steep slopeundeterred by the elements; his feet kept falling through into the deep snowunder his thin rubber boots, unable to support his weight. He felt as if it wasonly get harder as he continued on. Frigid wind blew over a ridge from the east,almost knocking Dylan over. If it wasn’t for the snow now reaching up to hisknees, he would have fallen.

Oddly enough, Dylan was wishing his hands became numb with cold, since allhe could feel was a relentlessly fierce pain, as if someone was jabbing needlesinto his hands. The wool gloves he chose for the journey were woefully useless againstthe cold wind.        Dylan was angered by the weather conditions;he had been taken by surprise, since before heading out he made sure to checkthe forecast and concluded he could handle it. Now Dylan was feeling greaterpressure as going back would mean failure. He could not bring himself to say hecould not handle it. He had to tread on. Memories of his ability to make thesame climb so easily when in his youth sprung into his head.

Dylan was great atclimbing years ago, a keen sportsman; you could even call him an athlete. Hewould never give up, continually striving to succeed, even if nobody waswatching. This was becoming a real struggle, even for experienced Dylan. Thethought of failing health and a steady decline in his abilities since his youthangered him.

The trophy at the end of this climb was life itself, to fail wouldmean certain death. He had to succeed. He was alone and no one could help himif he fell from such a height.

 This wasnot even a place for thrill seekers, for even they were safe at home. Every stepDylan took was a huge struggle; the agony his hands and feet were in wasgreater than he had ever felt before. Maybe he had finally met his match, maybetoday was the last time he could ever breathe the cold air, or maybe not.

Undeterred, Dylan marched on. Each step was short and carefully calculated, thewind tugged at his jacket trying to pull him down, but he would not give in, forit was only he who was responsible for his own survival. He stopped again,hopefully for what would be the last time. He took a moment to gather hisremaining strength and then miserably, almost tearing up, took another step.

Hecould not go fast, but at least he was moving in the right direction. Dylan wasforced to lean his head in closer to his body as the wind and snowfall batteredhis face. This was not some epic competition with the eyes of the worldwatching his every move with suspense; this was a solemn, lonely, privatestruggle. He had made the decision to leave his house that day alone, now hewould pay for that decision.  He was no stranger to this place, just astranger to the circumstances. Remembering the youthful days had helped him alittle, remembering how his father told him to never give up until a task was completed.Could Dylan forget the words of his father? Never. The snowfall was beginningto weaken.

Dylan realized the worst has behind him and it was only a matter oftime till he made it to the summit. It wasn’t so far now. Not in distance, butrather in time. No matter how much energy Dylan put in, he could not go anyfaster, it was too dangerous now since just one wrong move would mean defeat. Hecould see the end, almost there.

Darkness would soon be upon him and there wasno way he could find his way then. His tired muscles, weak with age and crampedwith burned out effort hardly responded to his desperate calls anymore.        Finally, with only moments to spare and with theshadow of the grim reaper close behind, he arrived. It was an incredible feeling.Too exhausted to celebrate, Dylan simply walked through the sliding glass door.He shook off the snow from his boots, hat and coat. A blast of warm welcomingair had met his arrival. He shuffled slowly through the warm store, making hisway to a bench to catch his breath.

He placed his backpack on the floor and pickedup a newspaper that was lying on the bench. Pensioner and now 95 year old DylanRagson had finally made it to the local grocery store from his home. 

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