The First Lesson
After the Shadowed Valley, at the foothills of Mount Piru, I first saw the Ten Thousand Stares.
That is the literal translation. It is in fact a staircase, older than memory. Starkly simple yet curiously elegant grey slabs of stone, with matching banisters on either side every hundred ascending paces, led a wandering path up the mountain. Upon the center of every stair rose two dark gleaming orbs, lodged halfway into the stone.
Only after several hundred steps did I realize they were eyes.
Not real eyes, but decoratively equivalent. It felt wrong to tread on them, so I kept to the left, and my weary progress weighed more heavily with the sense that I was being observed.
Night fell. I chose a spot and tried to sleep. Morning rose. I stretched my aching body and pressed on, upward into a thick fog that veiled the slopes and obscured my view of the land below. The air was cool and thick in my lungs.
I lost count of the steps. Then I lost count of the periodic banisters.
Then I lost count of time.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
plod plod plod. At least you don't seem to mind the eyes anymore, besides giving them respectful distance. This piece captures the monotony of life.
- #2425 Posted 4 years ago
The ritual of pilgrimage. Reminds me just a bit of the climb to High Hrothgar in Skyrim.
- #2430 Posted 4 years ago
- 5 out of 5
- Published 4 years ago and featured 4 years ago.
- Story viewed 9 times and rated 1 times.
All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?