The day my life changed forever was a fair-weather, windless afternoon on the tallest mountain in the country. It was too nice a day to pass up an opportunity to view a sunset. Behind me trudged two friends, Adam and Ramona, both laden with full winter gear. They were my only neighbors for many miles.
There had been a thick snowfall last night. Adding to the three current feet of powder covering this part of the mountain were another few inches, and it was enough to disguise the crack. The snow was so thin under Ramona’s tired feet it gave immediately.
“Get back! Get back!” Adam had hollered, his face as white as the snow. He didn’t dare advance far enough to grab her hand. I don’t know how I missed the crack, or why I let my friend wander far enough to slip inside.
With shaking hands I passed a rope to Adam, but he took one step too far to drop it. This time I couldn’t watch him fall. In the desperate rush everyone has done before, I called down, “Stay there! I’m getting help!” and made my mad dash home.
I prayed they hadn’t been buried. The glimpse I’d caught of the crevice didn’t look like they would be. Home was only half an hour’s hike at that point, but every second counted. I cursed myself for leaving the radio in my bedroom.
When at long last I had summoned help, my anxiety was so consuming I was feeling faint. In the helicopter I slumped sobbing against my seat, hoping against hope my friends were alive. This was all my fault. I was the one who suggested we leave unsupervised just to see the sunset the moment my parents left to visit the nearest town.
Adam came out of the incident with severe frostbite and a permanent unease around pits and holes. He gave me the details of what happened in the hole. Through choking sobs, he told me from a hospital bed how Ramona had broken her spine from the fall.
Paralyzed and in terrible pain, she had begged Adam to end her life. He’d tried to assure her she would survive. Before he could find his pocket blade from the pocket of his jacket, she had died. Broken ribs had pierced her lungs and she died in the arms of her best friend.
Within hours the crevice was sealed, and that entire area of the mountain was closed off. For eight lonely months I could barely leave my home, both because of restrictions on traveling and my own grief. I spent many hours in silent grief on my third-floor bedroom, gazing at the falling snow during the night or the brilliant blue sky at day.
One evening, before falling asleep, I remember forgetting to close my curtains. The walls of my bedroom were glowing and radiant. I may have smiled for the shortest of seconds, but never again did a sunset look beautiful to me.
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I know this is a little awkwardly-written but I wanted to fit it into exactly 500 words. My biggest worry is that this story moves too fast and is too edgy. Any criticism or feedback is welcome.
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