Mountains to Valleys

Like most people, he usually thinks with his mind and feels with his heart. But this time is different. This time, he allows his thoughts and emotions to flow from his blood, because this way, he won’t hesitate.

As a boy, he used to love clambering up the tallest mountain he dared to climb. At the top, he would look down at all the little people scattering around their usual paths, and try to pinpoint which of the many white-roofed houses was his. The peak is where he experiences a peacefulness that comes from viewing the earth from a different angle; one that makes him feel that he could stretch out his short arms and touch both ends of the blazing horizon.

Somewhere, sometime during his life, others have taken over the mountaintops as places to perform daylight murder. He avoids them now.

Instead, he makes his way to the deepest valley. Once filled with trees and meadows, all that’s left now is a field of grass made of human hair and bodies tangling around one another as if trying to find solace in each others’ arms.

He finds that he feels more peaceful in the presence of the dead.

When the next gust of wind blows, he opens his hand to scatter his recently cut hair, and watches as it joins the corpses rolling through the valley.


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