Silly the Goat

    Silly Goat was a reckless mountain goat. Time and time again he would climb higher than all the other goats. And time and time again they'd bleat at him to come down before he hurt himself. Silly never did hurt himself though; he was a good climber.

    One day he noticed a particularly tall peak of the mountain. The tallest peak. The summit. Before now, he'd never thought that reaching the summit was possible. But for a superb climber like him? Of course it was possible.

    Once again, all the other goats bleated how crazy he was, and that this was the most foolish endeavor he's had yet. Silly didn't care what they had to say, though. He only cared about climbing higher than all the other goats. And no goat could climb higher than him if he climbed to the summit of the mountain.

    So, against their pleading bleats, Silly Goat began ascending the mountain. The beginning was easy; he'd climbed boulders like these countless times. The cliffs gave him little trouble; all the goats could see him from here, and that bolstered his determination.

    The timberline made Silly's job even easier; no trees to get in the way meant he could climb even faster. And Silly did climb faster. The summit was clear in his sights now, and without regard to his body or the altitude, Silly pushed onward, eager to reach the highest point of the mountain.

    Just before he reached the summit, though, the determined goat collapsed. His body couldn't climb any higher. He pushed himself too hard without rest, and without training, and now he was stuck at the frigid peak of the mountain.

    He sat there with only his thoughts, and he found only a small amount of strength left. He had enough to get back up, and push to the summit, but not return. Or he had enough to get up, turn around, and let his body recover as he descended. Silly knew the right answer, but he detested the idea of returning to the other goats without having reached the summit.

    The chill began to seep into his bones, though, and he knew he couldn't remain here. He stood up, turned around, and with the pasture in which he and the other goats roamed in view, began his descent. Bitter thoughts filled his head as he slowly clopped down to the timberline. As he descended down the cliffs, he noticed the tiredness leaving his body. By the time he reached the boulders, Silly was quite refreshed, but when he reached the last several boulders, he realized he didn't know what he would tell the other goats.

    He could tell them he reached the summit; none of them would be able to tell the difference from this far below. But something inside him said to tell the truth. So he did. Silly told them he almost reached the summit, but he didn't. He turned around before he reached it because he knew he wouldn't be able to return if he pushed to the top. Silly's head drooped down in shame.

    What met his ears though, were the loudest, proudest bleats he'd ever heard from the other goats. They were so happy he returned safely, and so proud of him for making the right choice. It didn't matter one bit to them whether he reached the summit. They just wanted their friend back. And from then on, Silly was a little less reckless, and climbed with the other goats, not to tower over them.