The Finish Line

The turtle was nearing the summit. It had been quite an exhausting journey. Yet, he was so close to winning this race.

Five years on the road, struggling to make it to the end. The turtle had taken quite a many bends. Crossed forests and narrow roads. Strived through shorter days and longer nights. Endless dreams.

The hare had fallen asleep somewhere at a turn, far behind. Did he wake up soon after and take a detour? Who knew. The turtle did not care anymore.

He did move really slowly, the turtle had realized. So many years had passed.

But for now the race for the turtle wasn't against another but against himself. And after all these odds, against all the obstacles and many beautiful pathways, here he stood very close to the finish line.

Walking on the narrow ridge of the mountain range he found himself at a cliff with a narrow pit between himself and the victory flag. He would certainly have to leap over this to the other side. Or perhaps, learn to fly.

Could he do this? He had made quite a journey. Was this a time to fear or indulge in self-doubt? Maybe not. But the stakes were high. And odds? Who knew about the odds?

The turtle took a deep breath. After deep contemplation, took a few steps back.

Swiftly moved forward. And jumped.