Up over the mountain was a glow more beautiful than the Aurora Borealis. The shapes and the colors resembled a sacred icon of some sort. The climb would seem to take someone through thickets and over jagged cliffs to reach the top, but it would be worth it to actually see that strange phenomenon. Machu Picchu would be nothing compared to this climb.
As Jonathon made hasty preparations for his journey to the top, he took no one with him. It was a mountain of small proportions, so he thought it would be easy to scale it and reach the top before noontime. So he packed a lunch and off he went.
When he reached the summit some two hours later, he saw a beautiful woman sitting beside a stream with her slender feet dangling in the water, as if to purify the stream and fertilize the gardens down below. She was wearing an all white chiffon dress. She was all alone and seemed to be at peace with herself. “Is she some sort of an angel?” He thought. He called out to her as she looked startled, than began to blush. She just sat there and smiled at him. He asked her what her name was and then she finally began to speak.
“Who are you who has the audacity to speak to me?” the thunderous roar from her voice shook the mountain, and the grizzles went back to their lairs to hide in fear. The trees swayed to the wind that came out of her metal lungs. The black clouds began their nervous swirling and evil fire came out of her colossal distorted mouth. “You idiotic fool, what do you want to know for? Just don’t stand there with your mouth open. Say something, moron. You men are all alike. Now get the hell out of here before I really get angry and cause some pain to you, stupid.”
So back down the mountain side went Jonathon, never to even think of going back up there. When he looked at the mountain top again, the glow had vanished and the black clouds were hovering over it.
He thought about that bestial woman up there and how she resembled his ex-wife. He thought about sending her up there. Her and Thunderfoot Woman would have a lot in common. He sure was glad he didn’t have to deal with her again. What goes to show you; a book can’t be judged by its own cover.

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