A Milan Cora Tina Fable

Standing alone a red flag alerting ‘federal metal mailbox parcel pick me up’ waited patiently, expecting General Postal Master anytime. Brisking through, the hangover Halloween setting, a chilling reality cool breeze, warned the area; colder elements would be occupying the territory. A few miles separated the tranquil rural scene from a physical challenge, taunting the athletically toned, ‘climb, my monstrous mountain. Adventure begins only a few more miles down the path’,

“Milan,” Cora, always seeking a personal best, read the scripted lettering, painted, carefully addressing the resident property owner.

“He was famous,” Tina added, gasping at the discovered treasured riches while exercising, enjoying a collegiate class break.

“Yes, the fashionably House of Chill icon,” Cora designated.

“Do you think he’s home?” Tina wondered.

“Maybe Milan has tasty ice pack treats.”

Refreshing energy burst inspiration, encouraged the pair initiating a curious playful gear, walking up to the cabin cottage setting, hiding an important message inside its doors.

Reaching the front, Cora closed her fist then softly pounded, “you need to make an appointment, then I can give you a tour.”

“We do not want to bother you Milan,” Tina interjected, “we just want to come in, look around and reflect.”

“That is different,” Milan responded and released the many security locks, “Cora, Tina, such a surprise.”

“Holiday,” Cora announced.

“Shouldn’t you be at the library?”

“This place is our reference zone,” Tina laughed, passing Milan.

“Then let me help you collect your thoughts,”

Already surrounded by medals, trophies and photographs, the Cora Tina exacta, shut their eyes searching, needing a reminder, ‘why they are dedicated, committed, combing the past, studying reasons, getting pointed towards the right direction’.

“Come on girls, add two and two,” Milan laughed, “stuffy conversations haunt those valley academic halls, and you yearn fresh air, healthy factual battles, not conversational merry go rounds, lacking endpoints.”

“That is right, Milan, true victor,” Cora phrased entering the champion dreamworld gallery,

“Not an ongoing staged bicker,” Tina clearly spoke, “now silence please.”

Returned to his rocking chair and book, Milan allowed, the guests, calmness, visiting decorated tributes, recounting competitive combative confusing memories.

About an hour later, Cora and Tina, now hungry, prepared, to continue the journey and encounter the next interesting point, featured, testing vacationing explorers. “Do you have anything frozen saved? Milan?” Cora inquired.

“Something smells really good,” Tina mentioned.

“Aroma, you ladies are breathing originates over there, the stove,” Milan confirmed, “pasta and more bloody meat sauce then I can bare, grab a bowl, sit at the kitchen table, it will do you both some good.”

Giggling, since before finishing the sentence the two had bread, butter and plates filled, “you know,” Milan teased, "I do have throwaway containers, if you want dorm room research material to devour.”

Departing time arrived, dishes dropping damage hints, finding the sink, as a wash basin, preparing its transition, ending with cupboard resting.

“Are you going home? Or?” Milan asked.

“Oh, we are not done yet,” Cora informed.

“Completing the final leg,” Tina clarified, “together.”

“You know, only a few minutes, the bus stops,” Milan reminded.

“We know,” Cora stated, “but we already did a half marathon today, why not make it a full,”

“Cora,” Tina declared, and her fitness ally laughed, attempting mass transportation catching, leaving only a spare tenth second.

“Off to where winners rest,” Cora announced, performing a first seat available collapse.

“In peace,” Tina remarked, “You know the main hotel, still takes reservations.”.

“But are there ghosts?” Cora waved her hands, presenting an eerie gesture.

“How should I know?” Tina answered.

Unlike torturing leg muscles, the quick excursion lap, conquering elevation obstacles, proved successful, and the Castle in the Sky appeared flanked by eternal underground year-round residencies, built into the hill.

“Gothic grounds still attract curious characters,” Cora defended.

“And they are nice places to settle differences,” Tina contributed “offering outlets assisting grieving individuals.”

Stepping aside, letting social media amateur photographers filter outside, the routine patrons departed observing gravestones glistening during the sunset hours.

“Historians, say it was egos and competition, that buried the venues,” Cora cited.

“Money,” Tina added two cents.

“That too,”

Reading, each entry, “what was the difference between hockey and figure skating?” Cora brought it to the table.

“Figure skating uses their blades to kill while hockey just fist fights,”

“You are supposed to be sympathetic here, while all these sports quietly lie,”

“From what? Endorsements? Hypocrites?”

Following the cemetery cement driveway hike allowing humble spectators wondering chances, the frightful fortress entry stood tall, moat bridge down, presenting a welcoming sign. Pushing the final blockade, Cora entered letting Tina watch her from behind.

“Can I help you?” The registration desk attendee screamed.

“No, we are just inspecting,” Cora hollered, noticing not even a soul.

“I have always been astounded,” Tina stated, “the lounge has that counter,”

“Bar,” Cora corrected.

“No, counter imitating a diner,” Tina insisted, “where all different people come and go.”

“Like a club and bar,” Cora finished.

“Anyway, there is a whole world out there,” Tina concluded.

“And the classroom opens, opportunities through education after pondering all the cards a person is holding,” surmised Cora.

“That is why we need to get back to base camp,” Tina suggested and they both said in unison, “Race?”

Safely seated, the commuter ride left the ‘win at all cost exhibition’ and descended towards the valley.

“Did you get anything out of our little run up the mountain?” Cora checked,

“Besides pasta?” Well-fed Tina plotted.

“That’s true, what more do we really want beside Milan’s bloody meat sauce spaghetti.” Cora terms resolved.

“I could go for a gold medal once in a while,” Tina joked.

“Can you settle with a diploma or degree?” Cora realistic goals were revealed bringing closure, ending a chapter.