The Mountain's Charm (1/3)
The man stood at the bottom of the mountain, hands on his hips, appreciatively looking up at its huge expanse, dotted here and there with the occasional green tree and brush. He began to slowly pick his way up the enormous mountain, stopping every few minutes to ‘appreciate the view’ and catch his breath. After an especially long break, his breath coming out of his mouth in great gusts, he decided that he was not as young as he was back in, say, the 1950's, although one could not tell it was so from only his appearance, for he looked like a man in his early 30's. Picking up a tall, sizable looking stick, he leaned on it with an almost elderly air, sighing in appreciation of the weight being lifted off of his tired feet. Using the walking stick as a lever to push himself up the mountain, he started up it once more, almost wearily, despite the fact that he’d only walked a short distance from his starting position.
If one were to observe this man, leaning on his walking-stick cane, hiking up the mountain, they would see that the man did not look old, although his constant out-of-breath breaks did hint at a greater age than his appearance let on to. One with a sense of humor may even have thought that he almost seemed to be a very old, wise man, who had somehow found the Fountain of Life, and drunk from its youth-restoring waters. His eyes, a clear, watery blue, gave the almost haunting appearance of one who had seen too much and could not simply converse it with another. Despite his hallowed eyes, one could tell merely from sight that he had a cheery personality, and was rarely moody. The man’s mouth was framed by a light, brownish beard, which, if it were longer, might’ve given him the slightest complexion of a kind, old brown bear. His clothes, well worn from travel and hiking, were loosely fitting around his lean, muscular body. His shirt was a deep brown color, shadowed underneath the thick coating of leaves above his head, and he had on a pair of blue denim shorts, as well as some rough-looking hiking boots. He also had a large pack on his back, which may have attributed toward his being easily winded. His hair, a light brown like his beard, was also closely cut.
As he hiked up the mountain, his eyes never left the wildlife. He saw squirrels scurrying up the trunks of trees, insects buzzing from flora to flora, and he even saw a deer, eating from a fruit bush, who looked up at him with intelligent, startled eyes, before sprinting off into the expanse of the gloomy woods. He even swore that he had seen another human, wearing an orange vest and carrying a rifle, tromping through the undergrowth, but the hiker did not wave or signal to him and continued on his way. Soon after starting his hike, he decided that he would circle around and start heading down the mountain, and about half an hour after that, as he walked down the mountain, he spotted an expansive valley beneath him, dotted with fallen trees and huge birch trees. Smiling, he continued hiking downwards and watching the wildlife around him.
About an hour after entering the valley, when the sun was nearing its climax, the man sat down on the ground, his back to one of the abundant birch trees. Taking out an apple from his pack, he bit into it, munching on it while he watched the world go on around him. Shortly after taking his break, he heard a rumbling growl come from somewhere behind him, so close that he swore he felt the ground shake. Almost immediately after hearing that, he also heard a small yelp, of an animal in pain. It was then that he noticed that a great number of the birch trees around him had claw marks and scratches running down them, of huge claws similar to a bear. Standing up hurriedly, he stuffed his half-eaten apple back into his pack, and continued through the valley, keeping his eye out for any huge, lumbering shapes in the dark, not so concerned about the wildlife, until he realized that it was dumb to believe that a bear was following him. Relaxing visibly, he continued to walk through the valley almost contently, but he still kept his eyes open and aware.
As he hiked through the valley, the sun steadily lowering in the sky, he began to notice that the birch trees, with their respective marks, had began to appear less and less, and had given way to huge, green oak trees. Suddenly, all of the birch trees disappeared altogether, and the hiker came across a plain, covered in vibrantly colored flowers that he could not identify. He spotted some bees buzzing from flower to flower, and he suddenly felt incredibly peaceful. He stopped for a moment, and sat down, leaning on one of the huge trees nearby, enjoying the view. He told himself that he would get up soon, but soon came and flew away on silent wings, and he still sat, dreamily staring at that beautiful field. Eventually, his eyes slowly slid shut, and he fell asleep there, leaning against the tree trunk, watching the bees buzz from one flower, to another flower, to another flower, and listening to the strangely lulling melody of their chorus of buzzing.
The man awoke quite suddenly. A huge fog covered the field, and the hiker discovered that he could not even see his hand in front of his face. The chirrup of crickets and the faraway hooting of an owl disturbed his observations, and he guessed that he had fallen asleep for quite some time. Discovering his growing hunger, he sat up and snatched up his pack, but when he reached down to grab it where he had left it last, his hand brushed up against empty air, and damp soil. Panicking, he swiped his hands across the ground all around him, but could not find the pack.
As he stood up to continue searching for his pack, he heard a giggle coming from directly in front of him, followed by the quick pattering of bare, running feet. He took off after the sounds, carefully trying to blindly dodge any obstacles that might loom suddenly out of the dense fog. As he ran, he shouted at the person he believed had stolen his pack, yelling things like "Hey! Come back!" and "Wait! I'm not going to hurt you... wait!" Eventually, the giggling stopped, and the hiker found himself in very unfamiliar surroundings. He did not know which direction would bring him back to the field where he hoped his pack was. Suddenly, the hiker heard a deep growling behind him, and when he turned he saw two sharp pinpricks of light, two orange dots looming in the darkness, shining like two small suns in the fog, and the man took off sprinting away from that horrible pair of eyes. Suddenly, as he was running, he tripped over something small and soft, and he landed on the ground, hard. As he lay on his back on the ground, dazed, darkness encroaching in his vision, he saw stars shining, looming closer and then winking out of existence. And then he saw two sharp pinpricks of orange light, and the man knew no more.
When he awoke, the sun was shining very brightly into his face, and he found that he could see his surroundings much more clearly. He was sitting with his back to the tree once more, and the only thing he remembered of the night before was a chase. He reached up to feel his throbbing head, and his hands hit a particularly weak spot, which sent stinging pain shooting down his body. When he pulled his hand away, his fingertips were red with blood. That was the only indication that the chase was not a dream, as well as the absence of the pack... the pack!
Sitting up with a start, he frantically searched around for his pack, but he could not spot it. It had just disappeared. As the man was searching for his pack, he noticed something else equally as strange as the travel pack’s disappearance. Right beside him on the ground was a large dinner plate. On it was an omelet, as well as a fork, knife, and a napkin. Suspecting a joke, the man resolved to not touch the suspicious food. Standing up, he began to search for his pack, looking in the huge clumps of flowers, which he could not identify, which was only more strange. Picking a handful of them, he carefully placed them into his pocket, deciding to show them to a specialist, that is, once he found his pack and got off the mountain. After his unfruitful search, the man sat back down at the base of his tree and stared hungrily at the food on the plate. Why would someone take my pack, and then give me food? he wondered. This is obviously a prank of some kind.
After his stomach growled frighteningly loud, his hunger got the better of him, and the man found himself craving the food. Cautiously reaching out, he grabbed the edge of the plate and slid it across the ground towards him. He looked around, and found nobody watching; in fact, he wearily noted, he saw no animals whatsoever. They were just all simply gone. The hiker picked up the fork, and cut a small piece of the omelet off, stabbing it with the prongs. He ate it. It was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. It was both salty, and not too salty. It was a wonderful mix of flavors from onions, eggs, cheese, and some kind of delicious meat (Ham?! No...), it tasted as if a master chef had spent their life perfecting this amazing recipe, and had masterfully crafted the meal just for him. Totally forgetting the napkin, fork, and knife altogether, the hiker snatched up the omelet with both hands and scarfed it down almost animal-like. After he finished his meal, he stared forlornly at the empty plate before him, as if willing it to appear once more, but that did not happen.
However, as the man soon found out, he could not stand. When he had finished his meal and had attempted to stand, he had swooned quite comically, before falling back down with a humph. The field before him swam in front of his eyes, slightly cloudy as if he was looking at it from one of those circus mirrors. His eyes grew heavier and heavier as if there was an unknown force pushing them down with an iron hand. He soon found that he could barely even sit up against the tree, and he carefully lay down on the now quite suddenly soft soil. As his eyes slowly closed, and he drifted off to an artificial sleep, his last thought was, there was something in that omelet, wasn't there...? And his eyes closed, and he fell into a deep sleep.
As the man slept, a figure dropped down from the green leaves above him, and stood over his sleeping form, watching with bright orange eyes. A sound quite like a child's laugh reached the sleeping man's ears, and he smiled pleasantly. The thing above him smiled too, but it was considerably not as pleasant. Its teeth were sharp, long, and blindingly white, and they shined in the growing darkness, clacking together every now and then with a sharp clicking sound. A large tongue lolled out of its mouth, but it knew the time to eat would come. Soon. Very soon. And it was thankful, for it had been starting to get hungry...
To be continued...
Author's note:
Hello readers! I just wanted to make a quick author's note to say that part 2 of 3 in The Mountain's Charm will be coming soon! I want to see what you guys think of this one first, though, so I can change my writing style a bit, if needed, in the second installment. Thank you for spending time to read my story! Have an awesome day.
Sincerely,
J. C. Thornn
