I climbed the ladder until my hands and feet were calloused and blistered. The rungs are stained with my blood and sweat. I threw men off to tumble to the cold ground below. I stepped on fingers and climbed on shoulders.
Reach the top no matter what.
One day a gentle whistle drew my attention where a woman waved at me.
“Look at the view,” she said.
The view was indeed something to behold, but it was eclipsed by the beauty of the woman.
“Where have you been all my life,” I asked.
“Right beside you,” she said.
How could I have missed that for so long and at what cost?
Thank you Rochelle for another Friday Fictioneers.
Don’t second guess yourself, give it a try and see what unfolds.