My friends call me Misty. I’m an adventurer. I inherited the trait from my father. He wasn’t around much, but when he was, he showed me that not all things are to be feared. He taught me to know my limits and not to be afraid to stretch them once in a while. Mom wasn’t afraid of much, either, but she was more of a homebody. I’ve seen her face down a rottweiler and live to tell the tale. I think I’ve been exploring my world since I was old enough to walk without waddling. I was only a youngster when I defeated “Mount Everest”.
The mountain wasn’t the one that most people know. It’s near my place and has a different name, but that’s what everyone calls it. As kids, we were warned to stay away from there. As kids, though, we ignored the warnings and spent a good deal of time trying to scale it, steep slopes and all. There were twelve levels, each with its own hazards. The fall, especially from the higher levels, would definitely hurt us.
My older brother used to try to climb higher than everyone else. He managed three levels before Mom caught him and gave him a licking. He teased me about being afraid to manage even the first level and I vowed that I’d show him.
My chance came when Mom had to go out a few days after my brother got caught.
…….to be continued when I wake up……….