The dark, icy dungeon was sliced by a hot light.
The road less traveled is the one most feared. And for good reason. It’s a course filled with flaming balls of flying fire and crocodile pits of hungry beasts and pirates ships with one limbed mateys and rickety ropes that swing across snaky swamps.
Trust me. I know. I’ve traveled this treacherous trail once before. I was six, and I was on my way to find a treasure unlike any other.
We had been forbidden, by the ruler of the land, to have the treasure because only the ruler of the land was allowed the treasure. As a mere servant, it was in my best interest to acquiesce with the ruler’s request. But I longed for the treasure and decided that my best interests didn’t matter because after even one taste of the treasure, I could die happy.
On a rainy night in February, I made the proper arrangements to make the journey. Rumor across the land was that the treasure was stored in a dungeon deep inside the ruler’s castle. To get to it, I had to infiltrate the ruler’s domain, crossing the snaky swamp by swinging across with the rickety rope that I spoke of before while dodging the flaming balls of flying fire that were reigning down on me from the heavens above.
Once inside, I faced a shiny knight in silvery armor that swung a sword at me so big it could have slain a dinosaur. I deftly dodged his heavy sword and ran down the dark hallway, dashing into the first passageway I could see. It was a stairwell that spiraled down into the depths of the castle. Losing my footing on the first step, I found myself spiraling down into the depths of the castle.
With a thunderous thud I landed on the dungeon floor. It was damp and dark and there were prisoners chained to the walls by their arms and their legs. I sat for a moment on the ground, recovering from my tumble, letting my eyeballs adjust to the darkness.
Not sure of which direction to travel, I thought it a good idea to ask the residents of the dungeon if they knew where the treasure was hidden. As if they had been asked many times before, they all replied in cheerful chorus, “There’s an icy draft coming from over there.”
Credit: Marc Johns
Slightly startled at their apparently optimistic view of the situation considering the dismal outlook of their current chained-to-the-wall situation, I thanked them and moved in the direction they had pointed.
It became cold, very terribly cold. I knew I was close. I walked a little further, dodging bats that were barreling through the darkness and booby traps that were laid by a booby trap expert no doubt.
Finally, I came to a door. It was covered in frost, icy to the core, but the knob was red hot. Not wanting to melt my hand off, I decided I would numb my hand on the icy to the core door before grabbing the knob.
The door popped open with one touch of my numbed to the core by the icy cold door hand on the red hot knob. An immediate flash of light one thousand times brighter than the sun slashed through the darkness, illuminating the treasure.
There it was. The treasure. Floating in midair because of its brilliance. A dollop of creamy ice cream perched atop a lightning bolt cone.
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