Touching the Void
A selection of superb creative writing from Mr. Thurlbourn's Year 8 English students.
Looking down, I had almost a Birdseye view of every ominous cloud below me. The distant rumbling of storms nearby shook my adrenaline until it peaked. I took a deep breathe despite the lack of oxygen I already had. I desperately grabbed a nearby rock covered in layers of snow to pull myself up from the mess I'd already forced myself into. I've always had a fear of heights and many of my friends had told me to get over it, so why was I here? Why was I at the summit of Siula Grande? That's something 'til this day I will never know the answer to.
I had to keep going; it was too late to turn back. Every step I took, I knew I was closer to victory. Higher and Higher, step after step, breath, breath, I was exhausted. Even my blisters had blisters. As I felt the cold tickle down my neck, the pure, white snow was becoming thicker and thicker. It was at that moment; I knew I was soon to give up!
My hands were glued to the rope. I stood there. Waiting. Silent. I could feel the frosty wind aggressively slap my face as if to keep me awake, watching me, guarding me. If I fell now, everything I had achieved would slowly turn into nothing. No one would know that I had reached the top. No one would even know I was here. I would be gone.
My heart raced. I knew that if I stopped here, there would be no hope. No hope for me. No hope for my guides and no hope for my crew. I held on to my ropes for dear life, frequently checking my buckles and harness.
I pushed on further and further, encouraging my crew every step of the way.
Suddenly, small rock-sized clumps of snow began to run down the slope, one after the other, doubling in size. We were swept away, back down the pass we had travelled along. The snow swallowed me, disabling my limbs and weakening my heart and mind.
I lost hope. This was my time to die. There was no way up and no way down. All I could do was sit there with my cold, wet, frozen body.