Menolyrical; Final Friday Fiction

It's that time of the month when I share an image from my files and write something about it to entertain you all... and invite you to do the same in return! If you are new around here - or indeed an old hand who hasn't yet taken the plunge - why not give it a go? It doesn't have to be fancy or all grammaticized or anything. Check out the guidelines HERE! The important thing is to trust that we all have a story to tell...

THE CLIMB

© Yamini Ali MacLean - The Rise To The Mandir, Sandeepany.

Firtle turned to the Finister and fidgeted, fearful of finding an answer to the question in her head.

As Finister of the tribe, it was his job to keep the mental health of the queen's subjects fit and fertile. Fed up with Firtle's fiddling, he felt he had to know what was bothering her. So he asked. 

It turned out that Firtle was fretful about her friend, Furgul who was always inclined to get herself into a fankle. Far too fearless to know when to stop. Firtle had told her not to climb the Cobbleside. It was not for them. Not even the elders climbed there. Not even the queen. But she wasn't sure why and couldn't convince Furgul not to go there. She wondered if the Finister knew why.

Something to do with light, he said. Seeing Firtle's frown in reply to this response, he thought some more and then told her of the legend of Fongle.

The fellow had followed his feet and found himself at the edge of the Cobbleside and - giving no thought to why he would do it - started to climb. It took him ages. Although surprisingly he did find food on the way, the climbing itself seemed to sustain him. There was never really any hunger - except that of curiosity. Having begun, he knew he had to continue. As he worked his way over each cobble, there was a place to rest and look back to see his progress, and it was always amazing. The higher Fongle climbed, the wider grew his vision, the more focused he became, and the deeper was his curiosity. 

Eventually, having started the climb as a youngster, Fongle reached the highest place that the cobbles went. He was now distinctly middle-aged. He was not worried about the tribe or if his family were frightened for him, for his only focus now was to find out what had drawn him here. The cobbles stopped, and another thing stood before him. Stones piled one on top of the other and not sloped, but straight up, almost out of sight. He couldn't stop now. Fongle started this next part of the climb. It required a whole different effort, and there was no food to forage on these stones. But that didn't matter. There was a sense of purpose growing ever-stronger in Fongle. He had a growing understanding that there would, eventually, be an end to the climb, with nowhere else to go. He wanted to know that end. He wanted to see and experience it. 

By the time he was reaching the age that the tribe would have been putting him out to pasture, Fongle came to a point where everything was down. Not just in one direction, but in all directions. There was no up left to go. Running around a little bit to check this was not a hallucination, a daydream, a mirage, he satisfied himself that this was The Truth. 

And he settled down to contemplate this end of the climb.

As he let his eyes follow the skyline, noting that he was above the trees... above everything except the clouds... he found himself breathing more slowly, feeling freer. Floating. Then came the light. Not sunlight. Something inside him. It was astounding. Fongle floated in that light so fondly. Now there was no up or down or side to side. There was no everything, just this one thing - and that was him. 

Firtle looked at the Finister almost furtively. Fine fable, said she, with a pinch of disbelief. Are you telling me that because Furgul hasn't returned, that she is up there somewhere impossible and floating? How would you know, anyway, as Fongle never came back?

The Finister gazed steadily back into the youngster's eyes. Firtle couldn't look away. It was as if she saw in the ancient ant's eyes the entire world. It was as if she saw... a light. 

Who said he didn't come back? asked the Finister.

©YAM 2021