The mountains track to the summit was beyond recognition. It was hard to believe the path, which was used by trackers ubiquitously, not too long ago had vanished like a whiff. The last monsoon was longer than expected, and the relentless downpour caused the massive landslide, shrouding the pathway with screes, of some reminiscent ugly past.
Ever since the terrain way caved to nature’s wrath, people had stopped climbing the mountain and the summit remained at peace shining to glory with no trespassing from the human brigade. The tall tale suggests that the Sierra was greener, the hue atop vibrant and the fauna fearlessly thrived, for the humans didn’t venture the peak anymore. Irony remained, while the human cursed that fateful monsoon, nature had its last laugh.
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This reads like the beginning of a good story. Leaves me wanting more.
Thank you so much my dear friend. I so appreciate it
You’re welcome 😊
😊🌸
Well written, Shantanu. Yes, the power of the mountain and of nature itself without “the human brigade” tresspassing it. Beautifully described with a touch of mystery as if waiting for something more to follow. Intriguing.
Thanks so much dear friend for your beautiful comment. I so appreciate your kind words
Always my pleasure, Shantanu.
😊❤️
This reminded me of so many places especially national parks that I have visited and I just used to thing how much more beautiful these all would have been without all of us here.🤦
Thanks for relating to my work so well. I absolutely agree with you