My Short Stories

The hill covered in clouds

There were legends of what could be behind the clouds: wasteland, paradise, maybe the rocks just continued up the hill. The fear of knowing no one who had ever dared to scale the rocky terrain ever came back was persistent in his head. It told him to stop, go back. There was a reason no one came back. Still, he persisted. One step at a time was all he tried to concentrate on. He was determined to find out what was up there, and he wasn't about to back out now. 

Up the hill he went, struggling and scraping his hands and knees. Right foot, then left foot. By the time he reached the cliff, his body ached. His sore muscles begged to stop, to calm down; the open wounds all over his body desperately needed attention. Nevertheless, he persisted. He didn't care about the view of the ocean that must have been breathtaking, didn't care how his body desired nourishment and gentle treatment. His only concern was the mass of clouds surrounding the top of the hill.

Now that it was more sloped, he could practically walk and threw everything he had into it and jogged as far as he could, until he could go no further. He was halfway up the hill when he decided to finally rest. Sitting down, he looked around and could start to see the scattered bones of those who had gone before him. Fear trickled back into him, as his hands began to shake and his heart beat so fast, it might have beaten right out of his chest. Other than the constant thumping of his heart in his ears, he could hear a sound that could have come only from evil creatures. It was like a chorus of cackling and howling all mixed with strange gurgling that was like each had tasted thick liquid and was stuck in it's throat. No longer wanting to be there, he quickly shoved his water in his bag and dashed up the hill. The noise got louder the closer he got to that ominous cloud, yet he never saw anything. 

He finally reached the cloud, but he was too frightened to care and continued on. Suddenly, the noise was gone. He had reached the top, and... it was very disappointing. All there was, was a small flat of land and an old body mirror in the middle. Walking up to it, he saw the detail in the mirror frame. It was hand carved with vines and flowers growing all over it. Once he looked into it, all he saw, was himself. Fangs glistening with dark liquid, wings spanning out behind him, and shiny black eyes blinking back at him. Another day, another poor soul he took, and he remembered everything his victim had. It was a nice life, but the fear was his favorite. It was delicious.

Nobody left the hill, and there was a reason why: there was already another controlling the hill.