Coming through the mountains there were sights that I as a young man from Michigan had never seen before. High altitudes and narrow roads. A trailer from a transport company moved very slowly. Darkness had fallen. Village lights peeked out from amongst the trees.
Dawn arrived. I awoke on that cold November day. Below the barrier, a number of cars, and large rigs twisted and deformed lay in the valley below the mountain. In the mountain there was beauty, and the wonder of God’s creation. There was also a very present danger, and possibly death alongside the splendor before me.
The writing prompt for this story is the word sights.