Step after step.
Reaching for the obscured summit.
Where an unknown fate lays waiting for me.
With each tedious step, I grow more doubtful that I’ll reach the top.
I cannot stop, cannot look down; for if I do, I will neither make it back down nor to my destination.
The light at the top shines like a beacon of hope, edges me forward to take those last precious steps as my lungs gasp for the thinning air and my tired legs shake uncontrollably.
Only 88 words because I based the word count for each sentence in the Fibonacci sequence and the next number in the sequence would have put me well over 100. I thought the spiraling effect played well with the picture. I often use this form in poetry with syllable count. Let me know what you think.
FRIDAY FICTIONEERS: EVERY FRIDAY AUTHORS FROM AROUND THE WORLD GATHER HERE TO SHARE THEIR 100-WORDS BASED ON THE PHOTO PROMPT HOSTED BY ROCHELLE WISOFF, OFFERING CONSTRUCTIVE CRIT AND ENCOURAGEMENT TO EACH OTHER. READERS ARE ENCOURAGED TO COMMENT AS WELL. FOR MORE FRIDAY FICTIONEERS’ STORIES…