mike the mountain

Just posted another story on Ficly; I wanted to write something suitably spooky for Halloween. I wrote about 90% of it around 2am this morning (couldn’t sleep), and finished the rest this afternoon. You can read it here.

Unfortunately my original draft was over the character limit for Ficly (1024), so I had to cut it down quite a bit. Here’s the story in it’s “unabridged” form:

Always wear comfortable shoes when driving at night

Run.

Keep running. Run faster.

Don’t stop. For anything.

Run.

RUN!

…

Turn right. Down that alley.

NO!!

BACK TO THE STREET!

Right. Go. Stay in the streetlights.

Why are all the houses dark? Why isn’t anybody home?

Where is everybody?

…

I don’t know where I am. I don’t recognize anything, no buildings or street names.

I don’t know where I left my truck. I don’t know what I hit. Hard enough to crush the steel bumper and snap off a wheel.

I know there wasn’t anything there when I got out to look.

…

I don’t know what’s chasing me.

…

Can’t scream anymore. Hard enough to breathe.

Tried calling for help. No answer.

Tried pounding on doors. No answer. Not a light or sound from any of these houses.

Haven’t seen a single other car drive by, or person out for a walk, or even a stray cat or squirrel.

Just row after row of the same three models of some developer’s idea of suburban paradise.

…

Have to keep running.

I can hear them. Chasing me. No idea how many.

Can’t see them, but I can hear them.

They’re getting closer.

Keep running.

…

Left. Wait. Haven’t I already been down there?

Every street here looks the same.

There has to be a way out. A way back to the main road. With other cars, other people.

Just keep running. Left. Go. GO!

…

Is that a light? Is that a light on in that house?? It is!

HEY! HEY!! HELP!!

THERE’S SOMETHING CHASING ME!

PLEASE! HELP!

…

…

The light’s out.

…

I can’t hear anything. They’re gone?

No.

They’re here. They’re h

I’M SORRY I’M SORRY IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I DIDN’T SEE YOU I’M SORRY IT WAS AN ACCID

Let me know what you think!

Drove far past where the roads turned to gravel, then dirt.  Parked by a tall tree with bright leaves, flanked by a twisted spruce with dead red needles.  Put one mountain peak at my back, a beckoning finger raised, and mark another in the distance.  A sheer rock face at the end of a curving ridge, like soup pouring over the edge of a spoon.

(I’m already thinking of food.)

It takes me the rest of the day to reach the foot of the mountain face.  Had to cross one small stream, trying to forget about it.  Any foreknowledge of the area is against the rules.

I gather some wood, start a small fire (the easy way) and get some water boiling in a metal pot.  Some goes in a foil pouch labelled “Chicken Enchillada”, the rest gets mixed with hot chocolate powder.  I savor the taste of spice and sweet, eating and drinking at a pace to hold the memories on my tongue.  I sleep in a tunnel of blue nylon held up by army surplus paracord.  Tonight I am warm, dry, and full.

I don’t sleep.

(To be continued…)