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Short Stories Mount Ordeals    
        It was a lonely
day in autumn.  I recall missing someone and feeling like
I didn't know what to do with myself.  I decided to take
a trip to Stone Mountain.  It was only a few minutes away
from the house.  Soon I was on the road and then the highway.
          The tape player
in the car didn't work.  I had made jokes earlier in the
week that my mental disorientation was broadcasting itself and
had caused the tape in the deck to flip from one side to the
other without playing any music.  It didn't seem so funny
now.  Somehow the silence made me uncomfortable.  I didn't
want to hear my own thoughts and I didn't want to feel my emotions.
 I put on some earphones and listened to the Walkman I had
left in the car the day before.  I let the abrasive, politically
opinionated music fill my head with general thoughts that were
not my own.           In no time I
arrived at the park.  It wasn't very crowded, it being close
to sundown.  I parked and headed towards the trail up the
mountain.  Just about where the trail begins to incline,
I stopped to gaze at the sky.  I often looked there, as though
I might find an image in the clouds to comfort me.  Today there
was nothing besides thin wisps of almost nonexistent clouds,
slowly curling around the sun in the slight breeze.  The sun
caught my attention next.  I will race the sun,
I thought.         I headed up the
trail, moving steadily and quickly.  The music was still
blaring in my ears.  I made pretty good time, occasionally
looking behind me to check the progress of the sun.  Suddenly,
the trail began to get steeper.  I was out of breath, sweating,
the earphones were falling off my head periodically, and I thought
of an old video game.  I'm climbing Mount Ordeals,
I told myself.  After a brief rest, I pushed on.  
        The trail got
steadily steeper, and I could not stop to rest, lest I lose my
momentum.  The music in my ears began to take on a mocking
tone, and I was struggling with each step.  I felt tears
on my face but I could not recall the moment that I began crying.
 As I looked at my shoes, I noticed an inscription carved
into the mountainside.  We love you, go!
 After fighting for a few more minutes, I saw the summit.
          I wasn't so tired
anymore.  I took the headphones off and hurried onward.  The last
several feet went quickly, and then I was at the top.  The wind
pulled at my clothes as I stood there. The sun was just beginning
to set.  I watched the pastel colored clouds on the horizon
drift and melt.  As I turned my head from side to side, studying
the small buildings and vast green expanses of trees, the wind
made music as it passed my ears.  Each slight movement of
my head created a different soft, throbbing trill of a note that
I could not only hear but also feel. Everything looked calm and
still from the vantage of the mountaintop.  There was a strange
peace in feeling so small, standing alone on the top of the mountain.
~Work submitted by Rue
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