Sputnik
Today, like Bilbo sneaking one tiny ring from the dragon, I tweaked the nose of an ancient malevolence. I stole a ride off his forehead then soared away in my comical little craft as his severity shot daggers and blew flames at me, but I was already out of range. Despite his hundred thousand years and trillions of tons, the nine hundred foot rock was impotent to reach out and smite me. I laughed at him, played a trick, and got away.
I also scared myself more than I've ever been scared before. I'm still scared 8 hours later, safely in my home, full of celebratory steak and wine. I will have nightmares of seeing that cliff reach out to grab my feet as I fell past his overhang. I still feel his eyes burning into my back as I sailed away to a safe landing, him willing my nasty death so he could save face. I will always remember the power of voicing the first number of my exit count. That power launched me into an unstoppable sequence of events which must result in either my messy death ...
... or ...
... my first "E"!
