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The wind blew swiftly across my face. It was a cold, brisk wind and it caught me off guard. Suddenly I was struggling to regain my foothold; one that, until then, had seemed strong. But, then again, when the wind doesn’t blow, and foothold can seem strong.

It wasn’t until now that I noticed any higher ground. I only caught a glimpse of it before falling again at the power of the wind. In a frenzied panic I grabbed anything that could stop my fall – branches, roots, trees. Almost as quickly as it had begun, my descent came to a stop. Painfully I checked my injuries and found plenty of scrapes and bruises, but luckily, nothing serious. I slammed my fist into the soft ground. “Why?” I screamed, even though I knew no one would hear. The only noises were the loud beating of my heart and the raspy, labored breathing as I fought to give my lungs the oxygen they craved.

I stood to compose myself and noticed the rock again. It rose slowly towards the sky, growing larger as it extended. I wondered how I had missed such a huge feature before that seemed so alive. The base of it was covered with vegetation. Plants and trees mixed with the grass and roots. But as the rock stretched towards the sky, I noticed that there were less and less trees; and then, when my eyes reached the top, I saw that it was completely bare.

Tomorrow: The Man on the Rock – Part II

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