View of the Matterhorn

843 WordsJan 31, 20183 Pages
I let the curled shavings fall to the frozen, inky ground, creating a heap of milky white scraps. My blade easily carves through the wood, like a knife going through soft butter. A wolf starts howling in the woods, and distorts my concentration, the blade jams into my finger. “Verdammt!” I swear under my breath. A carmine liquid seeps out of my wound. I suck on my finger in order to stop the profusive bleeding. I sigh and gaze across the horizon. A cascade of fiery red and flamboyant orange spills out from the sides of the Matterhorn as the sun sinks leisurely below the ice-kissed landscape. I raise to my feet and stretch out my cramped legs. I am standing on a small ledge which juts out from the side of the mountain. It has recently snowed so the snow is powdery and deep. To my right, about ten feet below is a forest and to my left there is a massive skiing area. The view is immense, with a perfect view of the Matterhorn’s snow-capped north side. At the bottom of the mountain lays Zermatt. The mountain is barren, with no skiers left, most locals don’t ski for pleasure during the week, and tourists try to get home before dark. It’s just me on this oasis of the Alps. An arctic wind sweeps throughout the land, and snow is billowed up into the air like a freezing tornado. The sun is now hidden and the shimmering stars have come out. I stoop down to retrieve my scraps and carving which I then cram into my thin wool coat. I latch on my ski’s, wrap my fingers around my poles
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