PW:Climb Back Down
From Create Your Own Story
You instill your mind with the opinion that this altitude is immaculately unorthodox; the air here, you contemplate, will have no idea of restoring its quantities to healthier figures.
This plateau's warmth is an event of dousing the naturally caliginous in the same pendulum as a recurring fit of radiating gusts of air. Sickly and impoverished by these tiring old wagers of facticity: you disillusion yourself to find the neo-truth that the canyon of spikes below was in fact much bolder.
You vice your breath in the cold air, pinch the fingers in a bunch with your nails and hope to attain feeling, and with the sensationalist vision proven correct: prepare for what you think to be an abrasive descent.
Craning your head over the verge of this drop: you spy the detailed and pronounced glittery purple sand; from this height the weight and consistency of the and looks like pure floss. The second macerates the glass in the distance; the boat haphazardly escapes into the undertow as its properties become more and more distant.
If the way up was lined with the upturned blades of scimitars: you can now grip the handle of said scimitar and you are in somewhat total control of the lucid pleasantries of your descent.
You now stand at the lower rideable platform that changes more often; that is: you are on an acute beach that barely escapes water-level. You are above both sharp slate pieces but mainly cushioning sand.
Do you:
