The Train to Kachungjunga

Submitted for Contest #64 in response to: Write about someone who’s been sent to boarding school.... view prompt

Oct 22, 2020

Suspense Fantasy Coming of Age

The train ran on shaky wooden tracks, marching across the snowy mountainside like a caterpillar. The black-iron locomotive led the way, its brass valves hissing steam, and a line of six painted wooden passenger cars trundled merrily behind it. Every car but the engine was painted like a gypsy caravan, festooned with muted blues and explosive reds, exuberant yellows, and moody oranges.

Above the train loomed Kachungjunga, the mountain of calm. Calm for now. Massive slabs of frosted ice clung to precarious ledges. Banks of snow loomed like sumo wrestlers, ready to fall upon the little caravan at the slightest provocation. Occasionally, a dark spire of rock rose from the snow like a shark fin, indicating that a much greater beast was lurking.

Inside the near-empty train cars, there were fifteen boys between the ages of nine and twelve, and all fifteen of them were huddled in the car immediately behind the engine. Some were squeezed together in the rough wooden bench seats, forming little bundles of fur-lined cloaks and tightly buttoned jackets. Some stared wide-eyed out the windows, watching the sleeping giant lording over them with the same mixture of awe and respect one might afford a foreign monarch or a wild beast. Kachungjunga had a reputation.

Among the gapers pressed against the window was a smallish boy of about ten named Peter Kneld. He watched the mountain with paramount focus. It was at once the most impressive and most dangerous thing he had ever seen, and he was quite afraid of it.

But, like many dangerous things, the might of Kachungjunga did not repel but attract.

“I bet I could climb that,” one tweed-jacketed little chub said.

“I could do it twice as fast, and not even get cold,” bragged a blue-eyed boy who was shaped like a pencil.

“I bet I wouldn't even feel the cold,” lisped a snotty, nasal toned fellow.

And so it went, on and on again, until Peter finally pulled his face away from the glass with a pop and said, “I bet you’d all die before you got ten feet. See that yellowish crust on the snow? That’s rime ice. It’s super slick and brittle. One step and you’d find yourself at the bottom of the valley in no time at all.” Peter tilted his head thoughtfully to the side and added, “And if you survived the fall, you’d slowly die from hypothermia over the next six or seven hours. If the Windlings didn’t get you.”

All the gapers collectively pulled back from the windows and faced forwards again.

But one of the little boys—the runny-nosed one making inane statements—surprised the rest of them by saying, “I would still try to climb it!”

“I would still try to climb it because it is better to try than to not,” the sniffly kid finished.

And then all of the gawkers went back to their previous positions, admiring the powerful shoulders and glistening flanks of Kachungjunga, spouting the occasional statement about how they, too, could “climb that''.

Peter shook his head a little and laughed, but could not pretend he wasn't allured in the same manner. More than any of the other great mountains in the range—Ayoh-Kha, Girnani, Pisk—Kachungjunga possessed strange attraction.

Strange attraction that Peter had no wish to embrace. He was just fine and dandy inside the train car, thank you very much.

But not for much longer, Peter thought. Dad’s sending me to Nijunga for… His thoughts faded.

Peter’s father was a mountaineer. He’d always wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, but Peter showed far more love for the bookish side of life. Until the day Mr. Kneld decided it was time for his scrawny owlish son to become a man. There was no place in the mountains of Orukt for bookkeepers.

So here Peter was, on a rickety train headed for Nijunga School of Mountaineering, which was perched high on the shoulders of Kachungjunga. He sighed.

A massive jolt shook the train, and an intense grinding filled the air. The train slowed rapidly, sending all the boys flying to the front of the car as if launched from cannons. The entire caravan crunched to a halt.

Chaos erupted. The boys started to scream, spewing fear and pain as they tried to disentangle themselves from the dogpile at the front of the car.

Peter was near the bottom of the pile. His breathing was fast and shallow, his pupils contracted, despite the darkness of his sweaty confinement.

That crunch had sounded bad. Very bad.

He tried to mentally calculate how far they were from any help, but couldn’t.

The darkness lifted in bits and pieces as the boys on top of Peter pulled themselves out of the confused heap.

Peter stood up into the cacophony.

“What’s wrong with the train?!” Snot-Nose yelled.

“We’re dead.” This was Tweed Jacket, his cheeks pale and eyes haunted.

“It’ll be okay,” one little guy wearing a flat cap reassured himself. “They’ll get the train running again. They’ll come back and find us.” He finished with a sharp nod.

But the injection of hope drained away within a minute.

“No, they’re not coming,” Peter said, his heart beating fast. “We need to start figuring out how to escape this mess. Can we open the car door?”

They tried the doors on both ends of the passenger car. The rear one opened, the fore one did not.

Peter pulled his cloak tight and stepped out onto the small ledge at the back of the car, a gap of a few feet filled the space between this car and the one behind it.

Tendrils of lethal chill wormed their way into him, quiet and gentle, but lethal. The few droplets of sweat on his upper lip froze instantly. Kachungjunga towered to his left, even larger now that nothing but thin air separated Peter from its glacial majesty. To his right, he could see down through the temporary wooden track work. A perilous slide awaited any who fell, careening over boulders and protruding fangs of ice until reaching the bottom several miles lower in altitude.

As if trying to escape the fall that lurked just a few inches away, his heart jumped up into his throat. Peter swallowed it back down with an audible gulp, making the boys behind him cringe.

He grasped the right side of the door with his gloved hands and leaned out over the edge. He could see what had happened.

The weak planks forming the train tracks had rotted, and under the massive weight of the train, crumpled. The black-iron locomotive pitched precariously forwards, threatening at any moment to take a nosedive down the side of Kachungjunga.

From within the wreckage of the smushed cab, a lifeless arm reached.

The engineer’s dead, Peter thought, his face growing numb from both cold and shock. We’re on our own.

And then the train lurched beneath his feet. His grip slipped, and Peter would’ve fallen to oblivion if Snot-Nose hadn’t reached out and grasped his wrist. The other boy pulled him back in as Peter shouted, “We need to get off this train! It’s gonna fall!”

The locomotive slipped farther, held on the track by the very last pair wheels.

“How are we gonna get off?!” Flat-Cap shrieked, pointing at the steep mountain slope next to them. “You said it yourself—we can’t step on that ice!”

“We can step onto the tracks at the back of the train,” Tweed-Jacket said. The chubby boy jumped the gap to the next car in line, and all the boys began to follow as the train inched closer and closer to the abyss. Peter barely cleared the gap. Adrenaline pumped for those few inches by which he was alive.

They hustled through the cars with a speed their parents would’ve never believed. One poor fellow tripped, falling face down into the gap between the benches. Peter tried to fight backward against the flow to help him, but the stream of terrified children carried him along with as much strength as any raging river. For was fear not as strong as any flooded river? As mighty as any avalanche?

Then Peter ran right into a solid wall—the pencil kid. “Why are we stopped?” He shouted.

“The tracks are slick!” came the stressed reply over the tops of the boys' heads. They’d reached the last car.

Peter shoved his fingertips in his mouth, then pulled them out. And then they were moving again. But sweet relief turned to acid in his veins as the train lurched again, and then started sliding in earnest.

“Move faster!” the boys in the back screamed.

Death was on their heels like a rabid dog.

Peter reached the edge. It was his turn to jump to the tracks. He did not hesitate, turning around as he landed to plant his feet squarely on one of the wooden railroad ties.

The train receded faster and faster as the weight of the engine was augmented by more and more cars. Another boy—Snot-Nose—managed to make the transition, but the ice was his undoing. He slipped, hanging onto one frozen rail with all his strength. Peter tried to move forwards to help but his feet gave way beneath him. He crouched low, desperately trying to avoid falling himself.

Snot-Nose fell.

Then the entire train went off the tracks, gravity’s effect on the prior cars causing the last one to fling into the air. And then the whole thing crashed down the mountain, breaking into pieces as it gained speed and boulders struck.

Peter watched, a cold hand gripping his heart, as it hit the bottom with nine boys still inside. Snot-Nose’s crumpled body lay a few hundred yards below the tracks, bent in such an unnatural way that Peter knew he could not live.

Who had survived? The other boys—Tweed Jacket, Pencil, Flat Cap, and one other—were about ten yards back up the tracks, huddled together for balance.

“What do we do now?” Said Pencil.

Peter had no trouble hearing. “The first step is to get together.” He removed his grip on the iced-over tracks and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. “I-I’ll come to you.”

He carefully spidered his way over to the group of boys, and stood up with the help of Tweed Jacket. “Now the next step is to get off these rails.”

“What do you mean get off them?” The other boy whined shrilly, “More trains will come, and they’ll pick us up. We can’t leave the tracks.”

Pencil licked his lips, "My father organizes the supply routes out of Orukt. I've seen the schedule; they're not coming to Nijunga for another week." 

“What if we hiked down the tracks?” Flat Cap blinked nervously as he talked.

Peter shook his head. “We could never hike the miles fast enough. In three hours we’ll be nearly dead from the cold, even in all of this.” He gestured at the thick, padded jackets, warm pants, and boots they all wore.

They all went silent.

Whiner spoke up. “I’m scared. I don’t want to die on this mountain! I want my parents! I even want my dumb little sister.” He seemed on the verge of tears, which Peter knew would only cause Whiner’s eyeballs to freeze over.

“No,” Peter said. “there’s another option.”

Heads lifted.

“We’re going to climb Kachungjunga.”

Heads dropped.

“You’re raving mad.” Tweed Jacket said, his eyes flicking to where Snot-Nose’s broken corpse lay.

“Am I?” Blood rushed to Peter’s head and his extremities tingled, “Then watch this.” The boy placed his hands on the steep slope of the mountain. Then he twisted his right foot and jumped up, kicking with his left. Instead of slipping off and sending him to his doom, his foot broke through a thin shell of brittle ice and sunk into the snow. Amid gasps from the other boys, he drew back and anchored his right foot the same way. He laughed aloud.

“This could work…” Pencil wondered.

“Not could, does,” said Peter. “We need to get moving.” His fingers trembled and his jaw twitched, but Peter began to climb Kachungjunga, kicking one foot then the other through the rime.

“What are we waiting for?” Tweed Jacket said, frowning at the other boys. And together they began to climb as well, scaling the mountain as if it were a mere snowbank. Pencil ascended the slope with ease, aided by his lithe physique; Tweed Jacket was not far behind, using his greater weight to kick deeper into the snow; Flat cap scrambled like a manic monkey. Even Whiner climbed, though he did so with unsteady feet and shaking body.

Peter led the way, advancing up the deadly incline like snails up a wall. Directly above them, the slope increased in angle, forming into a small ridge beyond which the summit loomed. If they could reach that ridge, then maybe they could see where the school lay.

They all soon became drenched in sweat as the angle increased from tricky to treacherous. Whiner fell behind, losing the battle to the cold and exhaustion faster than the rest.

“Rest a bit,” Peter wheezed through chapped lips. They all panted for breath, each breath searing their raw windpipes with fresh agony. But they had to keep going. Death was in every step—the chance that when they tried to kick through the rime, they would slip. And the inevitable timer of the elements loomed over everything like a thunderstorm. By the growing sluggish fatigue he felt, Peter estimated they had an hour-and-a-half left—maybe less—in their fight against the chill.

Time to get moving. He willed his legs to move again, and the little group continued on. But something was wrong. Peter peered back over his shoulder.

Whiner wasn’t moving. His palms were flat against the mountainside. His breath came in heaving gasps. Fat drops of sour yellow sweat dripped from his nose, staining the ice.

“You can do it man. Come on,” Peter whispered.

The others took up their own murmured chants of encouragement, and after a long moment Whiner started up, moving like he was waist-deep in cold molasses.

Peter finally crested the small ridge, Pencil, Tweed Jacket, and Flat cap right behind him.

He looked up…and there was the school! It was composed of one large, pagoda-type keep, surrounded by smaller outbuildings and massive metal fins to break up and divert avalanches.

Hope surged, but then Peter’s eyes traveled downwards. Just below the school was one more slope blocking their path. It was several hundred feet high, and very steep, but no worse than what they had just surmounted.

He pointed at it, arm shaking a little. “We climb that, we make it. We’re safe.”

Whiner made it to the ridge after a minute longer, and they began the tenuous slide down to the ice wall.

Peter put a hand against the sheer slope, and his heart almost broke in two. The ice crust was slick and solid. There would be no kicking through. They would have to scale it like real mountaineers. He closed his eyes and shivered.

Pencil wiped his hand across the wall. “It’s slick!” He exclaimed with a pained expression, “Polished like silver.”

“I can’t climb it.” Tweed Jacket said. “It’s too high.”

“Can’t we go around?” Flat Cap wailed, “The train can’t climb this. How does the train get in?”

Pencil pointed to their left, “The train makes a huge detour that way to approach from the other side. It would take days to hike around.”

“We’re gonna die. We should’ve stayed on the tracks.”

Peter rounded on the skinny little kid, “We’re gonna die? We are not going to die! We’re going to climb this last wall.” He paused, placing his palms against the ice, remembering the last words of the runny-nosed kid from back on the train. “We’re gonna climb because it’s better to try than to not.”

It was decided. Peter ran his hands over the smooth face until he found a tiny flaw. He dug his fingers in and pulled himself up. His boots pressed to the ice, creating a smidge of friction. It was enough. He repeated the process.

The others followed suit, each painstakingly making their way up the insurmountable obstacle that lay before them.

Peter could feel his body shutting down as the cold became too much. He felt immensely tired, then sleepy. But he would not give up. He pulled himself up, searched for a handhold. Again. Every time it was just enough.

Just enough strength.

Just enough friction.

Just enough willpower for them to keep on going.

But then an anguished voice called out from behind him. “I’m gonna fall, I’m gonna fall!”

And as Peter craned his neck, Tweed Jacket fell from the wall, clawing and grasping for anything to hold onto. He fell right past Pencil and slammed into Whiner.

Peter turned away. His heart stopped beating.

Their screams cut short a few seconds later. Replaced by a thud.

“We have to keep moving!” Peter whispered with the intensity of a full-throated scream. “We have to try!”

As he forced himself to move with the last shreds of willpower, hot tears froze upon his cheeks.

And Peter clawed his way up and over the last ice wall. His heart began to beat again. He turned around immediately, reached for Pencil, and helped him up. And then came Flat cap.

They were alive and too cold to do anything but nod about it.

Like a bunch of tattered zombies, they shuffled through the maze of avalanche fins and around to a side door.

Peter managed one knock.

The doors opened as he fell unconscious, safe and alive.

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

253 comments

07:51 Oct 30, 2020

I did your quiz and I must say that it was great. I enjoyed every bit of it. Good job

Reply

15:41 Oct 30, 2020

Nice. ;)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Zilla Babbitt
02:45 Oct 30, 2020

Just did your quiz thing, by the way :)

Reply

15:41 Oct 30, 2020

Oh cool. :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
21:22 Oct 30, 2020

Btw, was wondering if you could answer a Reedsy question for me. For this last contest, the one that just ended, the story that I submitted never got approved. It never showed up under the prompt, or anything else. I submitted it well within the time constraints, and the story fits the prompt just fine. Any idea why it never got approved?

Reply

Zilla Babbitt
21:28 Oct 30, 2020

The Train to K one? My guess is that it's over the word count, as long as you think it fits the prompt. I'll go look at it and come back.

Reply

21:29 Oct 30, 2020

Lemme check the word count again...

Reply

Zilla Babbitt
21:31 Oct 30, 2020

Same thing happened to me a week or so ago. I spoke with a judge and she said it was because it didn't fit the prompt (and it didn't).

Reply

21:33 Oct 30, 2020

That makes sense.

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Zilla Babbitt
21:30 Oct 30, 2020

I would say that the judge in charge didn't think it fit the prompt well enough. Being sent to the boarding school was the prompt, but your mc never got there. Technically he was still sent to one, but I'm not a judge so...

Reply

21:32 Oct 30, 2020

Hmm, yeah. Sad. I'll do better next time. ;) I thought getting to the door would be good enough. :P Darn you word count! Just checked the word count, it's at 2,988, so probably content...

Reply

Zilla Babbitt
21:39 Oct 30, 2020

Word count's fine then. It'll be the prompt then. Ah well. You can always delete it and edit to fit the next prompt.

Reply

21:43 Oct 30, 2020

Oh, that's right! Good idea... Now I just need some sort of survival prompt.

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Meghma Ghosh
04:32 Nov 02, 2020

This problem had arrived to me too... After a long time of waiting I continuously mailed reedsy, Jenn mam etc... Then a reply mail came that reedsy was extremely sorry for forgetting my story and keeping it un-approved. So, I think you should also keep mailing until you get a reply mail of your story approved. :)

Reply

14:37 Nov 02, 2020

I might try that. ;)

Reply

Meghma Ghosh
03:57 Nov 03, 2020

hoping for your stories to get approved :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 3 replies
Show 2 replies
Jade Young
22:50 Oct 25, 2020

This is a really good story Leo :D I felt like I was right there with Peter and the boys. Even though I felt like the dialogue could've been polished a little bit more, I liked how you made Peter the MC by making him the only one with a name while everyone else was reduced to a specific trait about them. I really felt like what started out as a normal story became an intense survival story, and your choice of diction really elevated that. Keep up the great writing ;D

Reply

23:02 Oct 25, 2020

Thanks for checking this out. :) Yeah, I originally was gonna give all the boys names, but then I thought it through. I realized, girls exchange names immediately when they meet, but guys can meet someone, have an hour long conversation, and hand out phone numbers without ever sharing names. Certainly little boys wouldn't under the threat of a chilly death. :P I wanted to polish a lot of aspects of this, but the word count was the executioner of my creativity. I think the final revision is 2,999 words.

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Rhondalise Mitza
04:23 Nov 02, 2020

Hi, Leo! Did your quiz. :)

Reply

14:40 Nov 02, 2020

Neat!

Reply

15:37 Nov 02, 2020

Btw, someone actually went through and answered every question with. "Cookie". And, so far, most of us Reeders read & write Fantasy, want to be Hermione Granger, and really, really hate Twilight. XDDDDDDDD

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Claire Lewis
03:22 Oct 22, 2020

Hi Leo, this must have been a marathon to write!! All those little details are clearly meticulously planned. It was a very intense and gripping read. There are so many impressive things about this story, I don’t even really know what to say! In the interest of hopefully being helpful: if you’re looking to reorganize/make things more concise, my suggestion is to start with the dialogue. In the first read it didn’t pull me out of the narrative at all (so if you choose not to edit it, that won’t hurt anything) but looking back not everything...

Reply

11:28 Oct 22, 2020

Yeah, I debated the dialogue. One of the principles of effective story is that everyone must speak like a scholar. Essentially, you can't have people--even if they're dumb or ten years old--say dumb stuff with a lot of "umm"s etc, etc. However, that does NOT mean it must be unrealistic! What sections stood out you? :) Thanks for the review and the read! I'll see if I can take a look at your story--I'm pretty busy, so might not be able to. :P

Reply

Claire Lewis
18:43 Oct 22, 2020

No, I definitely agree with you that clunky dialogue is no good! Yours definitely didn't bother me, I was just being a bit nit-picky! These were the two that stuck out to me: “We could never hike the miles fast enough. In three hours we’ll be nearly immobilized from the cold, even in all of this.” (the word immobilized felt a bit old for your character) "My father is the organizer for supplies traveling from Orukt to anywhere else, including the school. I’ve seen the schedule; they’re not scheduled for a run for another week." I'd m...

Reply

18:50 Oct 22, 2020

Thanks for the suggestions! I think I'll take both of those... In replacement for immobilized, I think I'll use either "dead" or maybe "frozen solid" (taking out the "nearly" for the latter idea)

Reply

Claire Lewis
23:18 Oct 22, 2020

Awesome, I’m glad to be helpful! Thank you for your help with my story, too :)

Reply

23:34 Oct 22, 2020

Yeah, if ya need any other help, just let me know. ;)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Amany Sayed
03:55 Nov 18, 2020

I was definitely missing out by not reading your stories! The use of the fun descriptive words from the very beginning pulled me in and put a smile on my face. That smile only wavered when Snot-Nose died...poor guy. Overall enjoyed the use of personification and the various 'names' given to the boys. I truly was looking for stuff to critique, but generally, this is well written and good on the grammar side too. Awesome writing! On to my next story of yours!

Reply

13:47 Nov 18, 2020

Thanks so much for reading! I'll have to check out some of your writing as well. Any you'd recommend? P.S. Read, your bio, and I'm Purple for sure, lol. When you put "candy stash" I knew it was me.

Reply

Amany Sayed
15:12 Nov 18, 2020

Welcome! Hm, 'The Fire in Her Eyes' and 'Wall of Color' (you'll have to do some turning pages for that one) are my favorites, so you could pick one of those, or really anything on my most recent page. Fair warning- most of my stories contain romance :). Haha, that's awesome! Based on someone I know, so that's cool :D

Reply

15:45 Nov 18, 2020

I’ll check one of those out. 😊 I’m not obliquely against romance.

Reply

Amany Sayed
15:47 Nov 18, 2020

Cool, thanks! Be sure to leave your valuable feedback!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
02:35 Nov 03, 2020

Bruh Leo, I've read all four of ur stories and sivnidspjervfve they're so good. I rlly liked this one, the main character, Peter was definitely an inspiring lad and I rlly liked the ending, proving that they could do it and well, they made it out alive. Awesome work :)

Reply

03:50 Nov 03, 2020

Glad you liked the stories! This one is my personal fav of the ones I've put out so far...

Reply

05:09 Nov 03, 2020

:) I also did ur quiz thingo

Reply

14:18 Nov 03, 2020

I saw. ;)

Reply

20:14 Nov 04, 2020

(oop late reply sorry) Would it be cool if you did mine? :D

Reply

21:27 Nov 04, 2020

Sure. :)

Reply

Show 2 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
02:46 Oct 22, 2020

This one has been a journey to complete. It brought me right up the wire in terms of both words, and my bedtime... XD When I first saw the prompt, it immediately made me think British schoolchildren, which immediately made me think Chronicles of Narnia. So yes, this is my take on a British school story, set in a fantasy world based on Tibet. :P I am still editing for consistency and might reorganize some stuff to make better use of my 3,000 word limit. However, critique away! Happy writing, Leo.

Reply

R. K.
16:58 Oct 22, 2020

Ooh, I love the Chronicles of Narnia, and you did a great job with the world-building. The names are unique and I admired Peter's resilience and leadership qualities. Great piece, Leo.

Reply

17:01 Oct 22, 2020

Thanks for reading. :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Robbie Sheerin
16:55 Oct 31, 2020

I thoroughly enjoyed the descriptive and emotional language of this story. Well done.

Reply

17:18 Oct 31, 2020

Thanks for reading. :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Myra Koehn
00:25 Oct 28, 2020

I skimmed this first, then went back and read the whole thing over again. Loved it, too, all the way down to the last sentence. I was crossing my mental fingers the whole time, hoping you weren't going to make Peter drop before the end. Thanks for not doing that! You earned another like--- you know what, I think a follow, too.

Reply

01:31 Oct 28, 2020

Haha, thanks for reading! If you were crossing your mental fingers, that means I did my job. ;)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Tom .
20:42 Oct 24, 2020

I love how you describe the students. Q. Have you had deleted some of your stories?

Reply

21:10 Oct 24, 2020

The judges deleted one of mine that was too short. ;) For some reason they didn't delete the second one that was too short.

Reply

Tom .
21:14 Oct 24, 2020

This was a good story. I have just uploaded my latest. I have tried to work really hard on the grammar but I am sure I have messed up in a few places. After all your help on my last one I would love you to give it a read. It is called The Hunting Party.

Reply

Tom .
21:14 Oct 24, 2020

I am also open to a better title?

Reply

21:18 Oct 24, 2020

I'll read it and tell you. :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Charles Stucker
17:24 Oct 23, 2020

Jack London would approve. I see nothing to improve on this tale of survival.

Reply

17:26 Oct 23, 2020

Excellent. ;)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
B. W.
03:33 Oct 23, 2020

Jeez, did you talk to Hannah earlier about her stories as well? I saw a bit of the conversation. I don't understand it either :/

Reply

12:06 Oct 23, 2020

Yeah, Hannah was saying stuff about how she doesn't want critique, and really just wants to post her stories. I told her she should probably look around for another site, since the whole point of Reedsy is critique.

Reply

B. W.
15:17 Oct 23, 2020

I don't understand why she even joined Reedsy then. I think she's been on here for a long time already, or if she hasn't she's still been been here for a little bit and i know she already know what she has to do on here. We get prompts. They have ideas on them, like the new ones we just got. You make a story with them and you get feedback/advice/critique. So say there's a prompt that says "make a ghost go on adventure to find they're family" but then you just make a story that's completely different and is about two characters doing things b...

Reply

15:44 Oct 23, 2020

Yeah, it's kinda meaningless to be on Reedsy if you're not writing to win, or writing to get better. XD

Reply

B. W.
15:53 Oct 23, 2020

maybe ya should tell her that then?

Reply

15:59 Oct 23, 2020

Yeah, I did.

Reply

Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Anna Mosqueda
22:28 Oct 22, 2020

Great story! I enjoyed all of the characters and the world you created! This story sounds like it took a long time to write, so bravo on that. Keep writing, I enjoy reading your pieces! ~Anna~

Reply

22:45 Oct 22, 2020

Thanks for checking this out! Yeah, this one took quite a bit of thinkering. ;) This week I'm not even gonna try to put out more than the one story. XD

Reply

Anna Mosqueda
22:59 Oct 22, 2020

Haha, also new pen name?

Reply

23:30 Oct 22, 2020

Yeah, I wanted to try out a pseudonym. ;)

Reply

Anna Mosqueda
00:38 Oct 23, 2020

Nice! I like it:)

Reply

00:54 Oct 23, 2020

Thx. ;)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
A.G. Scott
17:56 Oct 22, 2020

Love the setting, very vivid. Reads like the prologue to a fun children's/coming of age novel.

Reply

17:58 Oct 22, 2020

Yeah, I'm debating on whether to keep all that or slim it down a bit. I'd kinda like to expand the ending a bit--even just a few sentences--but I'm at the word limit. :P

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Wirda Bibi
17:39 Oct 22, 2020

IT IS MARVELOUS

Reply

Show 0 replies
Saizen 🦜
19:02 Nov 14, 2020

Hello there, this a pretty amazing. The writing is impeccable and the story is fast-paced and dynamic. In terms of world-building: - The detailed description of the mountain is great, I can see the knowledge and research that went into it. More than that, you've included the reputation and cultural background of the mountain. - Good job on the characterization of Peter. His backstory lets the reader know about the reason of being there, as well as his connection to the mountain through his father. - The characterization of each b...

Reply

19:09 Nov 14, 2020

Awesome, glad ya liked it! Yeah, I'll be looking at your work as much as I can--I'll probably get to one or two more tomorrow. I'm a bit occupied right now with a full-length novel I'm writing, so not too much time for Reedsy. ;)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Kaylee Tinsley
14:00 Nov 09, 2020

Hi! So sorry for the late review, it has been very hectic lately!! Anyhoo, I'm here now :) So, I'm gonna be totally honest. I DREADED reading this story- not because of your writing style, but because of the genre. Adventure stories are so. not. my. thing. BUT... You proved me wrong. I fell in love with this story and all of the characters! I love how you never named anyone other than Peter- that was very impactful! This story reminds me of "Lord of the Flies" by William Golding- and I mean that in the best possible way. Honestly, I HAT...

Reply

14:15 Nov 09, 2020

Happy for the review! (even a wee bit late one. :P) I can certainly understand aversions to certain genres. ;) Gotcha on the train wreck scene! I would've loved to devote plenty more time in explaining/escalating that sequence, but sadly the word count did not let me. I think my final edit came out at 2,988 words. But anyways, thanks so much for taking the time to read this! I'm on the lookout for anything new you might write, so If I miss a story, just shoot me a comment telling me to come read it!

Reply

Kaylee Tinsley
15:46 Nov 09, 2020

Wow! 2,988? Impressive!! Also very understandable as to why you didn't escalate it a bit more! :) Will do! It may be a bit... lots of things happening in my little corner of the world, so I'm not sure when I will get the time to write another one... definitely shooting for one over Thanksgiving and Christmas break, but I can't promise. Anyway, I'll be sure to let you know!!!

Reply

15:47 Nov 09, 2020

Neat. :)

Reply

Kaylee Tinsley
18:53 Nov 09, 2020

:D

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
01:19 Nov 09, 2020

Yet another great story :D The descriptions were really good, and the use of Peter as the main character was well done. Good job!

Reply

13:11 Nov 09, 2020

Awesome. :)

Reply

01:25 Nov 14, 2020

Hey Leo, If you have time could you do me a favour? I'm having some troubles with my Reedsy account at the moment, so I don't know whether my stories are visible or not. Jasey said she can see them on my profile, but they don't come up under the prompts (for the past competitions that is). Would you mind checking my profile to see if my 2 stories are there? (or maybe 3 by the time you see this) And if you can.. see if 'Crossing the Line' comes up under the prompt #66: 'your character is given the opportunity to cheat to victory...'?...

Reply

12:46 Nov 14, 2020

Yeah, all three show up for me. :)

Reply

00:26 Nov 15, 2020

Thanks :D

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
00:39 Nov 05, 2020

A wonderful piece.

Reply

02:39 Nov 05, 2020

Thanks for reading!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply