The Midnight Hour & Other Scary Stories

The Flute

Hunter had gone up to the cabin to 'get away'. He was a musician that lived in the big city and lately the sounds and lights were just too much for him. The cabin belonged to one of Hunter's relatives, and though it was old, it had been kept in fairly good condition. He arrived early that morning, and after having spent a good portion of the morning getting settled in, Hunter decided to look around the property.

There was lots of wind up there on the mountains. It sang to Hunter as he looked about the overgrown land. There was nothing of note on the whole property, except for the shed in the back, near the place where the woods grew thick and blocked entry. Hunter decided to look beyond the cabin. He came to a trail that forked in two different directions. One led up the mountain. The other went down to the lake. He walked down to the lake and stood on its shore. Its deep green water looked very inviting. Maybe he would go for a dip later.

When the sun had reached its very peak and was beginning to softly descend, Hunter thought it good to go up the mountain trail, if just for a few minutes. So, he set out along the path, walking until he found a jagged ravine hidden behind big grey rocks. This ravine was in a place where very little grass grew and the trees looked withered and dead. The wind howled here, much differently than the breeze by the cabin. It sounded hungry, alive almost. If he had been farther away, the ravine would have looked like a great big wound on the side of the mountain.

Hunter did not like this place. Everything felt sick here, though he could not explain why. Just as he was about to leave, the wind came howling through the rocks again, this time with a bite that chilled him to the bone though it was in the middle of summer. On that odd breeze came the sound of an equally odd music.

So, he stayed and listened.

It was as though a strange song was being played, one without words and yet... He thought there were words. They went like this:

'Gleaming white. Bleached and bright. From life long gone, we're hewn.

Dear friends we'll be, you and we. Hollowed through and through.

So come and play for us today, don't be going soon.

Hear our song, we won't be long, play for us a tune..."

Again, there were no words, and yet, he could hear them. Curious, Hunter followed the melody. He walked down into the gloom of the ravine, and where the light fell, and the dark lurked in the cold corners of rock, he could see bones. They littered the floor. Some had holes in them. Others were solid. As the wind continued to howl, the melody grew louder. That's when Hunter realized that the song came from the bones.

He wanted to leave, but the song made him walk into the dark. Hunter stopped at the cave mouth. He could hear, near the back of that deep dark cave, the sound of long curved nails on bone. A scraaaaatch,

scraaaaatch, scraaaaatch that echoed off the walls.

He bent down and picked up one of the hollowed bones. It looked like a flute; a flute carved from bone. But then, the wind died, and Hunter knew that the scratching had turned into footsteps that were coming his way. He couldn't move.

The thing in the cave stopped a few feet from him. He could not see it, except for the two pinpricks of white that must have been its eyes. A long arm, with spider like fingers, each ending in ragged nails, emerged from the dark. It hovered over one of the bones and picked it up in its skeletal hand.

"Ah yes." The thing said, its tiny white eyes looking at Hunter. Its voice was very, very dry. "You've picked one of my favorites."

Hunter wanted to turn and run, but he couldn't. He could barely breathe, let alone speak. But then, just when he thought that horrible hand would grab him, the thing slunk back into the dark, shuffling on ancient feet.