Valley

Short Story

PART-1

Today I am going to speak about my visit to a valley that lay amid mountains. When you think of mountains, what image comes to your mind, I wonder you are in the same spot as me. I have gone here, I have seen it, and you still have that feeling inside you which perhaps delivers you a bit placid. I am awed by mountains, their glares when they peek from the vitreous snows and one should deem to experience the thrill of cruising on snowflake barefoot in a full moon night. This could be an obvious pleasure trip, with a light satchel, you can tread on and on till your foot is weary of the climb, and weary of the clamber, weary of the trials and drags, weary of the snow. the loud clamour of the village voices, the hazy nights, the lone moments that take you again and again to these wondrous vistas. We are usually oblivious of the beauty of the cliffs, as we are of the other graces that lie within and without. cliffs sometimes proffer a possibility. meanwhile, he asks-how did you reach this neighbourhood. I said, I was for an era following the way of a river, which was much larger at the foot of it when I followed it first and then I reached here. Day and night there were diverse notes like bays and, strangely no racket fretted me too long as I was mentally sunk in the feasibility of this voyage. You just know that I had a few advisers in that space, some well versed in complex topics, like hymnology, music, arts etc. One guide I remember wore Etruscan buskins and held cudgel, not for combat as he pledged but for a noble conviction, you can say peace or some other notion that often drives us through crossed waters and smites of passion. One night as I lay I gathered a sound beside my upper part. A tiny note and as I combed it proceeded to be a small bird much similar to a turtledove. the fowl in an enfeebled note uttered, ‘Who dare come to my quarters alone ?’. I was more than amazed and a little touched by this unfamiliar affair of a bird communicating to me. The entire region on the opposite bank of the current was covered by pecan trees and as striking contrast, this side only deserted tracts. What a nocturnal interlude for my troubled slumber. Then out of courtesy and also curiosity, I asked the winged creature its abode and objective of the visit. the dove only said that it is the estate of her folks and decamped without further talk.

Published by azuremorn

Writer, traveler. Lives in India.

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