This is the one

This is the one, he thought. The dank vial murked in his hand. It obstructed the clarity of the glass. It devoured the passing light. There was a deeper desire to place it in the hands of someone else, but one needed such charms to pass the shouting sea. Filled with styx, that horrible sound, it could dissuade any percieved auditory noise. It screamed loudly enough to shatter glass and rend the sky like lightning. Luckily, the bottle was crafted from plastic.

He turned and strode out of the cave and into the daylight. Below him the valley spread. A flower of fields, it stretched in green and brown and golden petals. The center bobbed a city. The steep cliff face gave a spectacular view of it all, but demanded a rope to avoid ill side effects (such as death). He reached out for the one still dangling from his descent. The length would allow him passage all the way to the camp below, but was unclimbable. Now he could glide to the bottom with ease. He did.

Mountain drifted by as he fell like a darkly angel on a string, landing neatly in front of a super market designed by climbers. He swiftly tugged the rope in a predesigned pattern and it dismounted the distant rock and fell neatly spun beside him. Hoisting it under one arm a receipt was divulged and he marched back into the super market to make a return. Someone seriously needed to rethink their business plan.