Skifree

One man challenges the mountain, striving to be the best on the slopes. But the mountain...BITES BACK! Based on the awesome PC game Skifree.

His shoulder cam catches it all. A man mounts a ski ramp, staring downward his heart pumps at the sight of the drop. He waits to build his courage, the wind howls softly through his ear. The camera is blocked for a moment as he adjusts his goggles. Now he’s ready for the plunge; tilts off the edge like a leaf and plunges like a stone. The chill of snow and wind numbing him until his feet meet the ground, hard and icy. He haunches down and slides forward, speeding away from the peak, propelling himself with his poles, feeling the mountain soar beneath him. Avoid that rock, DODGE THAT TREE! Riders of lower caliber pimple the mountains face, threatening worthy riders with their horrendous balance and terrible control.

            Back and forth between poles, hopping off of mounds, little spins all the way, all till the final jump. Speeding closer is the final ramp, rainbow all over to show its extremity. He crouches forward, poles and skis parallel and perfect. The speed builds, the world blurs, the final dip for momentum, and now he blasts off the Technicolor rise. His form is perfect, his grace like a gods. The world roles down as his body flips back, around he goes his skis to the air. Now his head right side up again and still he goes. Once, twice, thrice, Fifteen times before he lands! It is a record! It is flawless! It’s the greatest thing for any man to have ever accomplished! And now the world will chant his name! His accomplishments made immortal!

            The landing is as perfect as the rest, and he shouts his exclamations of triumph and joy. Sliding to a halt and pumping the air with his glorious fist he shouts and shouts and shouts. His heart pumps loudly, fiercely, like powerfully jabbing footsteps in the snow. Louder and louder, and growls…

            He turns just to see a gray sketchy blob twice his size pound him to the ground with a great stick figured fist. On the ground there’s nothing he can do as it ferociously rips him limb from limb. His ribs torn wide and arms pulled from sockets. The monster doesn’t chew; it only shoves in pieces whole. The camera falls to the blood streaked snow as it catches the last of his screams. All it shows now is a pair of stick thin legs bouncing up and down, gleeful at its catch. Two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes roll of bloody bouncing film. The true mountains champion. The camera cuts to static as its film ends.

Author's Note

Mostly nonsense. Wrote in class instead of paying attention.