The Mountain

He looked up at the mountain. It loomed forbiddingly above. How to even start?

He was new to this game, he would be the first to admit. When he heard of the riches to be achieved in the climbing of this mountain the doubts had came thick and fast. Oh but how these were countered by what he had heard. The tales from other explorers of this mountain and what was to be gained from it.

Especially the tales from those that had come even slightly close to the top. The gold they flashed in the taverns. Their excited chat. You could do this too, there's enough for everyone!!

Not all were like that of course. There were others that had attempted to scale those peaks. Emulate the success of others. Where they didn't have the stomach for it they railed at others. It was always someone else's fault. The store who had sold them their climbing harness. A rogue storm. The bad quality of the picks they used to gain purchase on the steep slopes.

Never mind that others had used the same tools. For the ones who barely made it off the slopes and left empty-handed there always had to be someone to blame.

There was one in particular. He had set up camp at the bottom of the mountain. Yelling to all who approached that we shouldn't try to climb. It was a loaded game he cried.

Walking straight past him the insults rang in my ears. Stay back. It will devour you! As if the mountain was some kind of sentient thing. Well, he didn't care what what the naysayers said. He had his eye on making something for himself.

The mountain would fall.

Figuratively of course.