The Eiger

I watched the snow on the mountain tops turn to liquid gold as the sun set swiftly as if fleeing from the cold. So black was the night that the peaks just disappeared and everywhere was stillness as the wraiths of night appeared. So cold was the air that it almost hurt to breathe, so thin was the air that my lungs began to wheeze. Staring at the blackness I saw a twinkling light suspended in the air in the darkness of the night. Yellow, orange, red in turn, like the eyes of stalking tigers, I realized, astonished, that the light was on the Eiger. Some fools were on the mountain, having almost reached the summit! As I thought of their predicament, I felt my stomach plummet. The Eiger isn't pretty like the other Alpine peaks, it's stark and sheer and barren and its summit's rarely reached. The north face of the Eiger is so sheer that snow can't cling, I wondered, as I went to bed, what would the daylight bring. Morning crept up slowly as I pondered what I'd seen, now the Eiger was in daylight, I guess it must have been a dream. No one could survive up there, or even climb that high, it must have been an illusion or some stars up in the sky. And then I heard a throbbing noise that echoed through the valley: a chopper with a rescue crew to count the Eiger's tally. Four bodies they brought down that day, those fools whose flame I'd seen, and the northern wall was stone-faced and the Eiger sat serene.