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The Mountain in Labour
The mountain was a beauty, though she shall not be named in this story.
The labour started slowly with gentle moans like a rumour of a deflowering
Worried and bemused passersby gathered as the moans turned to groans.
The gathering group whispered their excited expectations of a thrilling display to come.
As the groans turned to shrieks and screams, the crowd cheered louder and louder until...
nothing,
just a tiny mouse slipping away unnoticed by the spectators.
And in that quiet nothing, the grumbling crowd went back to their mundane days, forgetting to tell their families of their near brush with excitement.
Do not promise much and deliver little
The mountain was a beauty, though she shall...
Amoral Tales
