The Man on the Mountain
by M. Allen
I sit and watch as the hands on the clock go about their ways. The tick-tock-tick-tock as they go around. The kettle must be in the process of being observed very hard today becuase it absolutely reufses to boil. Only a few hours left to go. The clock continues to tick the seconds by. As I sit staring at the clock I ponder wether or not my boss would come by and tell me to get back to work. On a day such as this I would most likely tell him to shove it up his ass. But given his affiliation he would take this as an invitation to discuss his perveted ways of which I had no desire to hear. Today was no exception. The door chimmed sounded everytime a customer walked through the door. In a cheerfull voice it would say "Welcome to Bill's Mart where our people matter." What a crock that was. If I had to hear that one more time I feared I would explode. I as continued to stare at the clock My thoughts drifted back to the mountain.
I look down upon the village. The citizens there of going about their business. The holiday draws ever near
and the lit up houses are hard to ignore. My prayer is that a few of them may short out. The true meaning of
the season has long vanished into history. And then from the history. All in the name of political correctness of
course. A glance across the cabin to the calendar. Only 13 days until New Years and the night of drunkenness. The night when small children are locked into the houses for fear of what might happen should they become involved in the pandemonium. As a young man even I could not fore see such a place. Every time a falling star flies into view I can't help but wonder if it is the Almighty himself. Coming to cleanse this wicked place. I shut the drapes to avoid such views. Not that many years ago I was part of that place. I am glad I am no longer. I was shunned out you see. But it was for the better. To see the public acts of debauchery and other such events you would not allow your child to watch. I am a pessimist but not by choice. I see very little to be cheerful about these days. I notice how bright the moon is to night. But it is hard to avoid the activities in the village. The sex and violence in the streets. The women tied to fences naked while they are raped by the men. Then burned alive. I can't help but look at a helpless woman who refused such advances. As she is tied up and whipped but still refuses to submit. She screams in pain and agony. And the sound of it penetrates the walls of houses and up to my cabin. A penetrating high pitched scream tears it's way up the mountain. Just as a man wielding a axe approaches the woman. I could not help but admire her courage. Her bravery in the face of certain death. Perhaps this is why I took her as my wife, Not so many years ago. I turn away quickly hoping to spare myself from the sight. As I turned back she was still tied but her brain was laying in the street. Thick steam poured from it, caused by the difference in temperature. The blood was squirting her face. Forming a large puddle a her feet. The assault with the axe continued. The blood was everywhere. The town cheered as it drenched the street and the fence she was tied to. I shed a few tears over her. The wickedness continued as she was cut loose from the fence only to be hung up by her feet from a telephone pole. She was bled out like a butcher would do a hog. When the cheering went down a man came with a large knife and quartered her like a steer. After a while the slabs of her where further cut up a distributed almost the towns people. Which they then ate it raw in a ritualistic type of meal. The other women where untied and led away to the police shack. They will be jailed no doubt. They would be ready when the towns folk decided more is needed.
It is beyond even my worst fears of the future. Years ago as a kid I saw myself successful and happy. Much
as most young punks think. For the love of you life to be taken away in such a manner is
almost more then a person can bear. Though it is not the first time. The police are of no help. Paid off by Satan
himself. The village continues in it's blood feast as I drift into deep thought. I'm am saddened. It's not the life I
choose nor wanted. But it's reality. I could ignore it but it would accomplish nothing to deny the facts. I look at the skies in an attempt to at the very least prolong the time until my realization of reality returns. The stars are
quite beautiful tonight. Up so high in the sky. Flashing like the lights on a strand of Christmas lights. The North
Star clearly visible and standing out from the rest of them. As a kid I many times sat out at night pondering what
they were. Perhaps kings of old. As I grew older I learned they were nothing but meaningless balls of burning
gas. What was that?! I bright object got in the view of the corner of my eye. It was no falling star. It was in fact a metallic object blazing across the sky. Perhaps the Almighty God returning to cleanse this place. The towns folk continued in their lust. Oblivious to the object now hovering directing above the town. My optimism is suddenly broken by the realization that it is only a UFO. Most likely out mutilating cattle. Months ago I had one of my cows fall victim to such. It was not pretty to see it. The cow laying on her side. Genitalia removed. Eyes hanging out of their sockets by a thread. Blood drenching everything. Internal organs removed and bones broken. I have noticed an increasing pattern of sloppiness. Perhaps the younger aliens taking over from the older ones.
Today is also the the birthday of a distant relative whose young life was cut short while out in the town below. He had found a job working at a night club. He had worked there for only a year when one night when he was walking home along his usual path he noticed that something was not right. He looked down an alley only to see
a frightened man digging for his wallet. He yelled at the robber to stop. As the robber turned to face him the
would be victim escaped. The robber saw this and pulled the trigger until the mag was empty. The bullets ripped
through his chest. He felt as they carved a trail through him. The hollow points exploding within his gut with
each one came another sharp pain. The blood was flowing out of the gaping holes in his back as he fell to the
sidewalk hard. He hit the curb with such a force that it caused his head to crack open spilling forth
it's contents. The difference in temperature on that cold night caused steam to rise from his brain which lay upon
the sidewalk. The shooter ran off into the night leaving him for dead. Such a sad end to a young and healthy life.
But such in common place now days.
I am awoken from this thought by the sound of cows bellowing. As I listened to the sound come from one end of the paddock then the other. I quickly suited up with the proper attire required for this 15 below January night. I quickly grabbed my rifle, the stock smooth like silk. I quickly loaded two strippers into the mag and slammed
shut the bolt. The rifle making it's distinctive sound. As I ran outside I saw the cows running back and forth being
chased by government Hueys. They stormed the skies like a cloud of locusts. I raised my rifle to my shoulder I
lined up the sights with a chopper and pulled the trigger. For a moment time stood still. You could've heard a pin
drop. The 174 grain Full Metal Jacket bullet rushed through the air at twice the speed of sound. The silence was
quickly broken in a flash of light and a boom loud enough to wake the dead. The chopper fell from the sky. As it
crash landed the G-Men ran from it brandishing their M16 rifles.. How futile there were on a night such as this. I lined them up in my sight and picked them off one by one. Bang, hit him square in the head. His head exploded
everywhere. I fired at other G-man and he went down in a similar manner. And in short order the cycling of the
bolt, up-back-forward-down became instinctive. Until click, a dry fire. Upon realizing the situation I quickly
grabbed two strippers from a my belt and loaded the mag,. In stopping to load I noticed the blood running out
from the dead G-Men. In the cold it froze almost as soon as it hit the ground and in doing so it made a thick
steam. When I loaded my rifle it betrayed my position. I dove into the depths of a near by ditch. I emerged at the edge of the woods. I used it's cover pick off the G-men. Finally after an hour they retreated. And I retreated back to the saftey of my cabin. The towns folk were still about their wicked doings.
My day dream was interupted by the door chimmer again. Despite my previous thoughts I managed to control myself. I looked at the picture upon my desk of my beautiful wife. Her hair long, flowing and golden like the sun. Her body like that of godess. Her skin tight and smooth to the touch and a voice so sweet it could speak life into the long dead bodies resting in the grave. How I longed to be with her at this moment. But she was away on business. She would be back in a few days. She was indeed a thing a beauty. I glanced across at the beautiful children she had given me. So much like their mother. I looked up to see my boss standing before my desk. He seemed about to sa something but walked away. For the better I thought. Afterall I needed money desperatlty as my truck was yet to be payed for. It was beautiful even though I'd promised never say in front of my wife it was had more beauty then her. She had leather seats, air conditioning and the whole ball of wax. I had never left it in the parking lot becuase of the vadals so synomous with Bill's Mart. I at time's wonder if managment was to be blamed for it, either through action or inaction. I looked up from the clock only to realise it was quiting time. I very quickly gathered up my things and headed for the time clock. I swiped my card and was on my way.
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