This week’s prompt, courtesy of Carrot Ranch: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that steps beyond. It can be a door, a tunnel, a worm hole in space. You can create an explicit for what “beyond” is or you can simply use the word.
I force my legs to keep moving. I’ve already climbed a million steps. Can’t quit now.
Dad twists around. “You doing okay, bud?”
I ignore the frustration in my belly. “I just wanna get there.”
“Come on!” My brother darts past me. “It’s not that hard!”
“You have more energy than I do!” I bury the urge to cry.
Dad keeps going. “Let’s go. You can do it.”
Sighing, I take another step.
Finally, I reach the top, where Dad and Silas wait for me. Beyond this peak is . . . more incline to climb.
Stupid false summit.
Confession: this is more of a flash memoir than a flash fiction. This story is from the perspective of my older son. My husband took him and his brother to climb the Manitou Incline in September, 2015, and he pretty much hated the experience. Reaching the false summit is something he still talks about. So we bought him this shirt.
For the record, he did make it to the real summit.