Good Evening, welcome to the latest in my series of doing daily writing exercises. Hope you enjoy! Please leave your feedback and your own responses to the prompt. If you like what you are reading here, I would encourage you to check out not only my other Writing Prompts, but also my books as well!
Prompt: The Mountain That Eats Memories: A mountain rumored to consume the memories of those who climb it. Who ventures there, and what are they hoping to forget?
Genre: Magical
Source: 150 Best Fantasy Writing Prompts to Spark Your Creativity – Writing Beginner
Time Spent: 60 minutes
Word Count: 1116
Prompt: The Mountain That Eats Memories: A mountain rumored to consume the memories of those who climb it. Who ventures there, and what are they hoping to forget?
The climber took a deep breath and expelled it in a cloud of vapors as he raised the climbing axe in his right hand and brought it down, digging it into the ice and rocks of the cliff before him. He had long since ceased to feel the cold with only a distant numbness on his skin reminding him that he had been climbing for hours. He had enough experience climbing to know two things, the first was that he was, mercifully, not suffering from hypothermia, and the second was that frostbite would start becoming a concern soon.
The Climber pulled himself up slowly, taking care to dig the picks on his boots into the ice securely, raised the axe in his left hand and plunged it into the rock. This continued for some time: slow pull up, plant boots, right axe, slow pull up, plant boots, left axe. So focused was he on his effort that he was not sure how long it had been when he at last reached a wide ledge.
Pulling himself up, he was pleased to see that the ledge was more like a small cave imbedded in the side of the cliff. This allowed some protection from the howling winds so high in the mountain. The climber quickly huddled himself to the back of the cave and pulled a small kit out of his bag. A few moments of mixing the contents of several vials into a small metal dish which muttering various words soon resulted in a small, but warm fire in the dish. Comfortable in the knowledge that the fire would burn as long as it needed to, and was no danger to him even as it provided warmth, he curled himself around the dish and quickly fell into the sleep of on who had done extensive exertion.
The man’s dreams were plagued of scenes of war and violence. The cavalry charge at the Battle of the Green Meadow and its descent into bloody melee was the usual beginning. It then transformed into the storming and sack of the city of Balgon. Scenes of slaughter, blood, and mud mixed with fire and flood and other horrors unleashed by magecraft. Finally, he stood next to himself sitting upon a horse and all the begging and pleading that he had in his lungs could do nothing to prevent himself from walking his army into a trap. It had been a victory, but it had broken his army and lost him many a friend
The climber awoke with a scream and looked around frantically. He had some feeling in his limbs now but did not feel rested from the intensity of his dreams. It took him a moment to realize that a figure in what looked like, in the dim firelight, a black robe sat cross legged in the center of the cave. A cowl was drawn over the head and nothing could be seen of any physical characteristics.
“Why do you seek this mountain? Came a voice like rocks grinding against each other.
“I am told that this mountain will eat the memories of those who climb it, and I wish to offer some of mine.”
The robed figured tilted its head to the side, “I do not eat memories, but I do know a way to help you forget. But tell me why I should do this for you.”
The Climber bowed his head, “I have lived the life of a soldier, for good and ill, and on my first chance to lead an army, I led mine into a trap that all but destroyed my army and many of my friends, although I won the battle.”
“That has been true for many people.”
The Climber sighed, “I cannot live with the memories of the slaughter I caused. I cannot look any of my surviving friends in their eyes, I cannot manage my estates, look after my family. I am a mere shadow of what I was.”
The figure seemed to nod for and think for a moment, “You wish to be eased of your guilt and of your pain? I could do this, but it would be hollow and temporary. Others would remind you and you would still feel the pain, and not understand why it hurt so much until you found out yourself.”
The man seemed to deflate at this, “is there anything you can do for me then?”
“Hmm, your pain is clear. Only those in great pain would dare the height, cold, and winds of my rock and ice for the mere chance to have a memory ‘eaten’. You are brave, clearly, otherwise you would not have risked almost certain desk of chasing an old legend in such terrain. But I wonder.”
With a sudden movement, the figure moved closer to The Climber and seemed to take a long look of his face, occasionally making noises as one in thought. This lasted for several minutes before the figure sat back.
“Your clear bravery does not seem to extend to what takes true courage. I see you have not asked for forgiveness, you have not admitted to anyone, even yourself, the faults you made, and in fact you have hidden yourself in case anyone should challenge you.”
Tears rolled slowly down the man’s cheek.
“Like so many, this has gone as far back as your memories do. Ever since your father drilled that it was important that you not show emotion, admit fault, and not ask those you have impacted to forgive you. That is a memory I can take from you, and shall if you wish, and with any luck the memory of those harsh lessons being gone will allow you got be more open and honest.”
Worried, for a moment, that this would change his life, he was greeted with a flash of memory that threatened to overwhelm him. The climber could think of no other options, and so nodded his head.
“Very well.”
The Climber woke with a start and was surprised to find himself staring at the ceiling of his home The servant watching him screamed and fled from the room. He remembered he had gone climbing, but that usually did not exhaust him nearly so much and for the first time in ages, he felt like he was at a kind of peace.
Well, first things first, he felt better and calmer, and he had a strong urge to sit down and write some letters of condolences and apology. He still remembered the battles and the slaughter and would likely plague his nightmares for some time, but for the first time he felt like he had a way to help himself.
I hope that you enjoyed! I would love to read your response to this prompt as well and also what you think of what I wrote! Also, please check out my books and socials! Following my page would also be greatly appreciated!
I hope you all have a wonderful day, get the chance to do or experience something creative, and I’ll catch you on the next one.
– Jon
Leave a comment