Various One Shots - 7. The Land of the Mountain of Screams

“I don’t know. I think it’s a journal though,” a larger male replied, his own hair dark and skin light. Flipping to the beginning, he shifted in his spot. “Let’s start from the beginning and skim through the entries. It may tell us what happened to Mary and the rest of them.”

“For this entry, at least,” the older of the two replied, flipping through the pages, skimming over entries that talked of days filled with lessons, meals and fearing the man who kept them inside so much. “He talks about how they were barely let outside, about the food they got and what exercises they did. Wait…hold on…here. He talks about the mountain for the first time. He also talks about the creatures that we were shown, the ones that live on the mountain.”

Looking up, two sets of dark eyes turn to the dark form of their nightmares just outside of their window. The dark swaying shapes of the trees just added to the feeling of utter hopelessness, forming a barrier between them and the freedom that they so craved. The dark shapes of the ones they now called the ‘Guardians of the Trees’ flew and dove through the cloud filled sky. It was always surprising to see the sight.

“So read it,” the younger of the two said quietly, drawing his friend’s eyes back to the journal, eyes wider than ever. “We need to know what they were told. If they were told the same as us.”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t really say, at least not so far,” he replied. “Let’s continue reading.”

That’s when he told us that the children before us had been very, very naughty. They had gone out to the mountain and had been taken by the dark creatures. We were all so terrified as he wove his tale. We hide in our rooms like cowards, unwilling to leave the house until it is full light, fearful where the creatures would take us away to.

But…we also fear that there is more to what he told us. We don’t know why we fear this knowledge, but somehow we know that it’s not good.

“Another entry that just kinda stops,” the elder said, his voice soft and worried as he turned to his friend.

“Yeah. I think they found out whatever is happening after that night, but I wonder how they found out. Let’s see what they have to say about the disappearances first, and then worry about the secret behind them,” he said, watching his companion shiver slightly and nod his head. Flipping through several pages, he paused on one that seemed to have been written rather quickly, almost as if the writer had been in a rush. “Look, here.”

Savannah has disappeared. She had gone to the kitchen last night for nothing more than some water, something that we have all done at one point or another during our time here. But she never came back to bed afterwards, and we didn’t find out until this morning.

I fear that we have been lied to the entire time we have been here. The creatures upon the mountain, the path that leads away from here, and now…Savnnah.

At breakfast this morning, we asked the doctor about where she was, but got only honeyed words for it. We were told she had been very naughty and had gotten into his office. When he found her, she had run away after being told she would have to spend the next three days in the closet, the usual punishment around here. She had left and disappeared into the trees, being taken away by the dark shapes.

She would become one of them and never again be the Savannah that we knew and loved.

I have a feeling that this was all a lie; a lie that he had told many times in his life. I fear that we may be next.

Savannah had never shown interest in the man’s basement office, at least not what we have seen. She was just hoping that one of the families that came to see us occasionally would one day take her home as their daughter. She wanted nothing more than to survive and find that home that we all longed for. She wanted to leave this place that has become our nightmare.

I think I fear for our lives even more now that I am able to think about it in detail.

It looks like the man is recycling the excuses for the disappearances,” the bigger male mused, tapping a finger on the page of the journal they were reading. Shifting, he picked up a glass of water and sipped from it before looking at his friend.

“Yeah. Hey, look,” the older one responded, pointing to the journal as he flipped through the pages. Shifting, he started to read again.

It has been two weeks since Savannah disappeared and Mary-Sue is gone now as well. We asked and got a tale of a family coming late in the night and adopting her, taking her away to a new life. She was free and happy from this hell hole.

I don’t believe it a bit. Just another lie to uncover the truth from.

“Wow,” the small male said softly, shaking his head and squeezing his hands against his own arms.

The elder one stopped at a new entry and tapped it with his long fingers. “Here, he talks of the secret finally. They found out what it was,” he breathed out, listening to his friend scramble out of bed and sit down next to him.

We’ve found out what is happening to the others. Everything we have been told has been nothing but a lie! Just like we thought. The so-called adoption of Savannah, the disappearances of first Mary-Sue, and then William, all of it.

Leo and I are the only ones that are left now.

Okay, I’ve probably made you wonder about my sanity, if I haven’t already with the words I’ve written in the few months that I have been here.

To start for this, Leo and I went to the kitchen two nights ago to get a cup of water. The man was gone for the night and had forgotten to lock us into the bedroom as he did every time he needed to leave at night. Always something about not wanting us to snoop or to get out into the yard to be taken away.

Another lie. He just didn’t want us to find his secret. That night we were lucky and this night, we are once again lucky.

As we stood in the kitchen, sipping our water and looking out the window to that mountain, watching the shapes fly around, the screams barely floating in through the cracked window, we wondered if we should leave and hope for the best.

A noise from the basement drew our attention.

It wasn’t loud, much like something that you would expect from perhaps a mouse…or a rat in the wall. Just a soft shuffling of small feet upon a dusty floor, but it was enough to arouse our curiosity.

Walking over to the door quietly, the glasses safely tucked back into the cabinets, we opened the door, the hinges not squeaking unlike the others around the house. I swore that I could hear my heart start to beat faster, and faster, and faster, with every step we took as we started down those cold stairs. Reaching the bottom, we paused and looked around. It was dark, barely any light sliding through the basement window. We found a candle and some matches easily enough, hiding the used match in my pants pocket.

What we saw made our breath hitch and voices stutter.

There, in that basement, stood cages. An entire wall covered with cages big enough to contain a child, or large creatures. The floor was splattered with blood and various other stains, while tables with beakers and vials bubbling filled the rest of the space.

The sound filled the air, louder this time, followed by a low keening moan. It sounded like William. Looking around, we found one cage that held a dark shape. Pulling back the cover, we gasped and pulled away from the creature that had been our friend.

With dark, leathery wings, skin the color of mocha, and sad, pain filled eyes, William looked up at us and we couldn’t help but cry for him. He had been turned into one of the creatures, but not by them, rather by the doctor.

He had turned them all.

Looking around, we found several journals that looked as if they hadn’t seen the light of day in many a year. We took those journals with us, promising William that we would stop the mad man. Leaving him behind had been so hard to do. But there was no saving him, at least not now. We could not do anything for him.

But we can help stop him. We have buried the journals in the yard and hope that they stay protected during their time there.

We are leaving this night. We have planned and gotten ready for it. We have food to last and we both know what plants are good to eat and which aren’t. We are ready to leave.

Because, after all, it is better to die a nameless death than to live to be an experiment for a mad man.

I leave this here and hope that you too escape from this nightmare of a house. Mountain of Screams or not, I will not stay here any more.

Richard Dahl
Leonard Dravis
Mary-Sue Kirrit
William Naioma
Savanna Harim

“Do you think they made it?” the small male asked his friend, eyes wide, hopeful and scared at the time.