The Sunrise
Fiction Friday
Here on the deck, I puff on my cigarette, looking at the magnificent mountains, listening to the soothing sounds of rushing waters. The sky is fiery as the sun sets into the icy peaks, reflecting its tangerine hues on me. It’s impossible to feel this serene and not dream.
But I can’t help but miss something. Soaking in the beauty that surrounds me, I once again go back to the moment it had all felt even more beautiful. All the same, just a little more beautiful.
Except that this was dusk, and that was dawn.
I’ll tell you all about it, but before that, there’s something you should know about me. Ever since I was little, I’ve had a major fear of heights. Peering down at anything from up high used to make me feel uneasy.
“Hurry up, we’re getting late,” said my mother to 12-year old me. We were going for a barbeque at my uncle’s house, who lived up in the valley.
“We’ll reach in time to enjoy the beautiful sunset view,” said my father, telling me how the terrace view made the food even better.
We arrived and I was already nauseous. It wasn’t at that much of a height, but still high enough for me to feel a little anxious. I greeted my uncle and his wife and tried staying as far away as I could from the railings. The…
