Short Story

Standing in awe, cold air rushed through my hair. The smell of fresh, minty pine complimented the beautiful view of the wilderness. With my boots wedged in the snow, a shiver took over my body. This is was a place of peacefulness and tranquility. Never before had I been so close with nature. Facing north was the large forest. To the left and right, only the powdery white snow was visible. While looking up, I caught a glimpse of the old ski lift, the single lift which was my passport to this great adventure. All that could be heard was the sweet chirping of birds nestled upon tree branches. "This is indeed a moment to remember," I thought to myself. Being that close to nature could put anyone in a state of supreme happiness. As I stood admiring the clear blue sky and the world around me, I was interrupted by my friends' constant taunting, "Come on, let's go!" They were not rookies to this game we call skiing. They had experienced the atmosphere around the sport and were not as enthusiastic toward the surroundings as I was. Their calls became louder, the annoyance increasing. I stepped up to the edge of this immense slope. The steepness of this colossal block of snow was frightening. The only way to go was down. I took a deep breath with no worries, for this was not the first time I was confronted with a suicide mission. In a heartbeat, the exhilarating feeling of going downhill on a pair of thin skis took over. The breeze rushed through my hair and flowed vigorously. Veering left and right, dodging trees and large rocks objects, and racing with my buddies at the same time was truly a thrilling experience, although extremely dangerous. Flying down a slope at fifty miles and hour, I felt as if I could leap up and fly away just like an eagle taking off. At that minute I determined that this would be my new passion.