Story Hour
Monsters of Terrance Peak
Written by Gene B. Williams
|
Click here for the archive page with a list of previous stories. Please remember that all materials on this website are copyrighted. No reproduction without express permission. |
Being a young man in the twenty-third century was difficult enough. Being lost in the mountains sure didn't help Tom's feeling of well being. Already the sun was dropping from the sky.
All Tom could think of were the tales of the mountains told in his village. Something strange and dangerous was up there. Those who went into the mountains never came back. His father had warned him to stay out of the mountains.
"The mountains are prowling with strange and horrible beasts," the tales said. "Flesh eaters, and fierce, with huge fangs and tearing claws." The war hundreds of years ago was given as the cause. Mutations.
Although Tom had never actually seen one of the creatures, he had seen pictures of them. Drawings painted by the village elders who claimed to have had contact with them. The hideous memory of those paintings burned into his mind, and he wondered if he would ever see the warm comfort of the valley again.
Looking over the edge he could just barely see the smoke rising into the air from the village. His family would be gathering now around that dinner fire, wondering why he was gone and when he'd come home.
How he longed to be by that fire, smelling the delicious aroma of mother's hot stew and fresh baked bread.
He heard a voice, blown to him on the breeze. Turning, he could see nothing at all except the dark outlines of the brush and small trees. The shadows seemed to twist into horrible shapes, but he knew them to be nothing more than shadows. At least he hoped that they were nothing more.
"Who are you?" it came again.
Despite its softness, the voice sliced like an icy knife. He jumped and spun around with his fists clenched, expecting to see some monster about to leap on him.
"What are you doing here?" the voice asked.
Tom picked up a large stick and waved it threateningly in the air. "Where are you?" he shouted. Silence. "Show yourself!"
A bush to his right moved slightly. He raised the stick over his head as if to strike the bush. "All right," he commanded, trying his best to sound brave and fierce, "come out of there!"
"No," the voice whimpered. "You'll hurt me."
Cautiously he lowered the stick, then sat down on a large rock, facing the bush. Somehow the voice seemed less frightening.
"Come on out. I won't hurt you."
"Throw away your stick first."
He tossed the stick aside. Slowly the bush parted and a young girl came from behind it. Her pretty, young face was frightened. She looked sadly at Tom, as though expecting him to suddenly attack.
"Don't hurt me," she pleaded.
"Who are you?" he asked. "What are you doing up here? Are you lost, too?"
"Lost? No, I live here. Just down the path. My name is Lisa. But I haven't seen you before."
"I'm Tom," he said. "How can you live here? Haven't the monsters eaten you yet?"
Her head spun around, back and forth, her eyes wide and searching. "Where? Have they climbed up? Daddy said they couldn't climb the mountain, and we'd be safe." She glared at Tom. "Did you bring them?" she accused.
"No! They're here. They live here. I've seen them. Well, pictures of them anyway."
The anger in her eyes changed to puzzlement. "There are no monsters in the mountains. Only people. The monsters live in the valley below, ready to eat anyone who goes down there."
"There are none in the valley," he argued.
“Oh, yes!,” she exclaimed. “Yes, there are! Just last week two boys - two very foolish boys - went down into the valley. They never came back. They were eaten!"
"If they were, they were eaten up here. Believe me, Lisa, there are no monsters in the valley. I should know. See those fires off that way?"
She looked. "Yes. Those are the fires of the monsters, used to cook people." Her voice cracked tearfully. "I bet those two boys are on those fires right now."
"No, Lisa. No! Those are the fires of my village."
Her eyes grew huge with astonishment, then fear. "Don't hurt me," she begged. "Please don't eat me. I'm not much anyway."
"I'm no monster," Tom growled impatiently. "I'm a person, like you are."
"But I live in the mountains. With people. You come from the valley. You must be a monster."
"Well, I'm not. There are only people in the valley."
"There are only people in the mountains."
They looked at each other for several minutes in silence as it sunk in. It had been ages, since long before the Great War, that people had ventured very far from their homes. Could it be that there were no monsters anywhere? Could the stories be untrue?
The two "monsters" looked at each other as the sun slowly disappeared.
Like this story?
Click here to see previous stories!
