Lydia sprinted the final 50 yards to the summit, spread her arms wide, breathed in the cool, crisp mountain air and let out a huge “whew-we” that echoed back to her again and again. A smile split her face in two.
Fifteen minutes later, a huffing, sweat covered Darren joined her. After a halfhearted high five, he lay flat on his back, closed his eyes and did little other than breath.
“Oh, come now, have a look. It’s beautiful.”
Groaning, Darren propped up and scanned the horizon. “It is,” he admitted.
Carl lay back looking up through the hole in the rotted roof. Sweat on his forehead ran down into his eyes.
The midday sun hid just outside his line of sight, burning bright and hot in a cloudless sky.
What I wouldn’t give for a cool breeze, he thought. He looked over at the defunct ceiling fan, wishing yet again that it could spin. How nice that would be, if the blades were straight and spinning, making this tropical paradise bearable.
That however was not to be. So he poured another tequila, and waited for a cool breeze to blow.
#FridayFictioneers is a weekly blog link up hosted by Rochelle over at RochelleWisoff.com. You should check out her sight and perhaps try your hand at writing a 100 word story.