litlinks 2025

Rock and Ice

by Henry Rahman, Lyneham High School

The wind howled, savage and unrelenting. Shards of ice slashed through the air like shrapnel, cutting deep into his flesh as he clung to the narrow rock ledge. The mountain towered, ancient and unyielding. And yet, amidst the storm something lived, a beast tearing at the mountain range’s soul.

“Just hold on!” Ace barely caught his instructor’s voice over the raging wind. Strong yet fragile, his words were shredded by the chaos around them. “There’s a break ahead! Maybe shelter! We might have a chance, if we move NOW!” His voice stayed calm, but the words felt hollow. More fear than strength. Hope was flickering fast into the storm.

How had it come to this? The cruellest slopes and sheerest escarpments; a deadly ascent in a brutal winter. And there he was. Barely a teenager, clinging to the cliff like a ghost at the end of existence.

Fear and doubt coiled in his chest as they reached a narrow chimney, a treacherous chute of ice and shadow. Every foothold was a gamble, each grip, a deadly promise. Together they aimed for a slightly gentler incline, hoping it might offer even the smallest chance of survival.

He seized another handhold, his fingers raw and throbbing from cold and fresh blood. The wind-bitten edge cut at his hands. A sharp cry caught in his throat. Above him the mountaintop loomed, distant and merciless, mocking his futile struggle like a cruel, ruthless god.

Blood dripped from his fingers, freezing in the bitter air as he wiped it on his stiff jacket. And what then? Thoughts rushed through his mind. Even if they reached the summit, remote and desolate, there’d be no gear, no shelter! No way to call for help. Their packs were nearly empty.

The jagged silhouette of the cliffs crept nearer, a shattered crown piercing the storm-darkened sky. But then his focus wavered. Flickered like a dying candle in a savage wind. And in that fleeting moment the mountain struck back.

A handhold, once cold and solid, crumbled like powder beneath his grasp. It was as if the mountain had deemed him unworthy and cast him into the abyss.

He screamed as the ground surged up to meet him, cold and unforgiving. His ropes snapped taut, wrenching his body violently, slamming him against the cliff wall far below. Dizzy and stunned, he came to his senses, clutching his head as his scalp bled from the impact. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. Cold stabbed through his shredded clothes like bullets.

Suspended in the freezing air, Ace’s body trembled with pain and exhaustion. Every muscle burned, his heart thundering in his chest. Icy water gnawed at his broken skin, biting as deep as the bone.

Slowly twisting in the bitter wind, he fought to focus, to steady his breath, knowing any moment of weakness could cost him everything.

“Ace!” the voice shouted down, barely audible over the crashing wind. Ace looked up towards the jagged peak, his instructor silhouetted high above. “Are you okay?” Ace’s entire body screamed in internal ache, begging him to shout back, ‘No!’ That of course he was not okay, that he wanted to stop here. Let the mountain take him. But what could his instructor do?

“Yeah,” he called back, though the word felt hollow. It wasn’t true. Not even close. But what else could he say?

Thoughts howled through his mind like wind through a graveyard, cold and sharp with regret.

Choking back tears, he forced himself to head back upwards, each brutal gust of wind battering him from every direction. Sliding ice avalanches, impossibly huge, crashed down into the ravine below him.

He risked a glance backwards, barely daring to turn. Razor-edged spires loomed behind him, shrouded in a veil of swirling clouds. The storm had not peaked yet. The worst was still coming.

His breath froze in the biting wind, each gasp sharp and cruel against his lungs. His heart thundered like a war drum, fierce and wild beneath his ribs. The storm seemed to stalk him like a predator, icy winds trailing at his heels. He was the prey, fighting for survival, gripping the wall with desperate strength. Every muscle tightened to hold his place. The smallest slip would mean certain death. And high above, dark clouds churned, thick with a threat heavier than any gale.

Looming high over all the peaks, close enough to brush the heavens, lights were forming, small at first glance. Then the first crash of thunder cracked through the range. A massive bolt of lightning struck the rock face, missing their metal pulleys by inches, sending shards of granite tumbling down the cliffside. Ace screamed and hugged the rock, certain he was going to die; either falling back down into the valley below or hanging for eternity in the mountain’s merciless grip. And then—silence.

It was not the silence of dread, nor that of foreboding or evil promise. It was a peaceful silence of strange hope.

In what felt like mere instants, the clouds seemed to shift, heading out towards the lowlands further south. His heart slowed as he breathed in the beauty, the crash of wind and thunder replaced with the sounds and smells of alpine streams, cascading to waterfalls as though they’d never again be dry. It was as if a physical weight lifted from his chest as the clouds dispersed, the sun gleaming on the fresh snow, making it glisten and twinkle like distant stars. And deep within the granite itself, the mountain’s breath seemed to soften and calm. It was as if he had proven himself. As though the mountain itself had decided to let him pass.

Ace blinked blood and ice from his eyes, forcing his gaze upward, towards the jagged peak. That possible respite, the safer route, was not enough anymore. Not after everything. The summit no longer tormented him high above. It was a reachable goal. A safe haven.

Ignoring the pain still ripping through his limbs, he surged upwards despite his exhaustion. Each hold deliberate and controlled as the chimney slipped far behind him. His mind was quiet now. Focused.

He passed his instructor in silence, every movement precise. The final, most challenging section was before him. This time he would lead.

The ridgeline loomed just ahead, driving him upward despite the pain shredding through his muscles. He swung between the outcrops with a dancer’s grace, seeking only the tiniest grip. One last handhold. He stretched to his limit, grasping the highest rock, pouring every last reserve of strength into hauling himself over the crux.

With one last effort, he willed his broken body onward. He anchored his ropes into the ground, and stumbled up the steep grassy slope, grabbing the slippery scrub as he crawled. The summit was so close now.

His journey was seared into his bones, as he summited the great mountain, collapsing just seconds later beneath the sun’s rays. His final view before losing consciousness was of the range he’d traversed, the cliffs he had conquered, and a helicopter cutting through the sky. The copter had been called by a nearby resort, notified immediately when the storm had closed in. In the last instant before he passed out, he saw his instructor come over the top, a smile on his face. “We’re going to be okay, Ace.” And then there was nothing.

As he fell deeply asleep, the thrum of the beast’s turbines hummed like an eerie lullaby. And he drifted into a dream. It was a disorienting dream. Vague, like rolling mist on distant peaks. Not memorable yet deeply impactful. When he finally opened his weary eyes, something had shifted inside of him. As if the mountain that had nearly broken him had gifted him something instead.

When the helicopter touched down, his legs barely held his weight. Every fibre of his being screamed to never climb again.

Yet buried far beneath exhaustion and pain, a quiet voice tugged at his mind. You’ll be back. Not now. Maybe not for years. But one day.

So, he rested, recovered. Let the quiet stillness fill the gaps the mountains had once ruled. Though the ache to return never truly faded, he moved slowly, letting life and time unfold at their own steady pace. Seasons folded into one another, months turned to years. As his body healed, something deeper grew and mended too, slowly strengthening him from the inside. A quiet resilience, born in the mountain’s fury, was now ready to carry him to whatever came next. And eventually came the day, when the strength inside him could no longer be contained. When the mountain’s call pulled him onwards once more.

He stood beneath another cliff, lungs full of sharp alpine air, the familiar thrill stirring like fire in his chest.

And when he climbed again, it wasn’t to conquer mountains, but to stand with them. For the peaks had already reached his soul. Shattered him like fragile glass. Before forging from the wreckage, a spirit no force could break.