This post is written in response to the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge where we are provided with a picture and then are asked to submit a story of around 200 describing what it means to us.

My story follows the picture prompt below.

Steve was always the adventuresome one of our group. He was extremely competitive. Always wanting to be the best in everything he tried.

Mountain climbing was his latest interest. He had made many practice attempts at the mountain before him. Actually, one too many attempts as it turned out.

He turned a deaf ear to the warnings of the locals that the mountain was ready to blow. Rumblings had been heard over the last few weeks and people living in the vicinity had been warned to evacuate.

The last memory many of us had been of Steve sitting with legs folded just contemplating in awe the mountain before him.

Well the mountain did blow its top at 8:32 am on May 18, 1980. The resulting explosion reduced the mountains highest elevation from 9,677 feet to 8,363 feet.

Fours months later Steve’s body was found still sitting in that pose but covered by ash and pumice and a rather large fumarole emitting steam, carbon dioxide and sodium dioxide was before him.

Steve never quits!