G is for Ghost Mountain

G is for Ghost Mountain.

A excerpt from the prologue of one of my works in progress, Ghost Mountain.


‘Now Boy, let me tell you about that mountain…’

The old voice warbled and faded out into the world of waking dreams, when the smell of smoke woke him from  his troubled sleep, sending one foot out of his bed and his heart beating out of his chest.  He felt cheated and relieved because it was just another dream.  Another memory the universe had decided to put on replay in his mind these last few weeks.

The dark young man fisted at his damp dark eyes and then ran both hands over a marine standard close crop.  Picking up his watch from the night stand, he groaned.  He’d only got in a couple hours sleep since ending his shift and he needed to be up to greet the day in another two hours time.  Stretching long arms out and up, well used joints popped and old and lengthy scars elongated along the lean lines of his form.  Placing his other foot to the hardwood he stood and remembered smelling the smoke.

He made short work of his jeans and shirt before making it out into the long hall.  The smoke smelled thicker now, he could taste the acrid stench.  Picking up at a run he made it down the back steps and out the kitchen door into the night. 

And then he saw flames...

Out over the rolling hillside further into the valley an orange glow leapt up out of the trees casting an eerie glow into the star strewn sky.  From the property where he stood it was clear whose house was up in flames and knowing only confused him more.  For the house had already succumbed to fire nearly a year ago the month before. 

“It can’t be.  The house is gone.  There’s nothing left…”

‘Because you were late.’ 

The young man jerked around to look for the source of the cold whisper, towards the blackened woods around the far side of the house. 

‘Because you’re a do nothing and do nothings do nothing right…’  Cruel and even, the familiar voice mocked from somewhere in the shadows, slithering out and hitting the startled young man soundly in the heart like a south bound freight.

“No-NO!  This is a dream!  You are not here!  He is not here!  The house-the house isn’t burning.  I-It’s gone…” 

Stepping back up onto the kitchen stoop, trying to grab onto what he knew to be true, he felt his taut body begin to shake.

‘Ya couldn’t do a goddamn thing, could ya kid.  I told ya how you were gonna turn out.  Useless—a ‘do nothing’...’