Trifecta-Ninety-Five

My flight was a long one; thirteen hours, but I finally made it. Jet lag was nothing compared to the fruition of dreams I had about this moment, which soon would be at my foot.

Ireland was the land of lore, but I had done my research, oh yes I had! Greenland was the true spot where my dream had landed me. It was here that my pot of gold would be found. Not over some green pasture’s hill, next to the pub on Fancy Street, but stuck, for centuries, in the ice of this non-green land.

I prepared well. Every severe weather article of clothing adorned my warm-blooded body. My feet protected by the very best of boots. I was on a trek. A trek to find the true pot of gold. Misplaced, for my benefit, by James Hall, sent by Christian IV of Denmark, as an Expedition of greed. Mr. Hall, unknowingly found this secret stash and I knowingly found out about it.  

I utilized my pack to full capacity and off I went into the freezing beauty of my dreams. The spot of the coordinates would take three nights journey and four days hike.

All went well until the fourth days’ hike. I was so close, I could taste the metallic sugars. One leg went completely through the ice. I was stuck! I tried, in vain, to loosen myself, only to cause further damage when my second boot broke through the ice and sent my body, waist-high into the freezing grips of the ice. I used my ice pick as a frantic last resort, to pull my body from the glacier.

The cold was such as I cannot put into words in this diary. Whomever finds my gear should know, that the loot is but yards from where I will surely sleep my last sleep.

I can now feel my body shutting down. The frost-bite has been a welcomed companion in this end. Someone else will find my dream rainbow.