Strange Curse of the Mountain
Ellen Lynn
Most
people think of a mountain as a thing of majesty, beauty, or sport.
But to me a mountain is a thing of terror, strange mystery and
horrible death.
Our
little village of Glencairn, consisting of only twenty families, once
lived a happy, busy life at the foot of the magnificent
mountain-peak, St. Anne. We all loved our beautiful mountain—and,
strange as it may sound, we felt that Mt. St. Anne loved us. No one
in our community ever lost his life on that mountain—although we
got our livelihood solely from its resources. There were never
landslides in the summer, nor snow avalanches in the spring, which
made us feel as though we were especially protected.
It
was two years ago that the notorious Bailey Ferris made a surprise
visit to our village. His powerful car took to our rough roads with
amazing ease and speed. In the flashy style of the typical gambler,
Bailey made a handsome and striking appearance, but I remember how I
felt suddenly afraid to see this bold outsider looking over our
secluded, peaceful village.
My
daughter, Janice; the village teacher, was just coming out of the
little schoolhouse and I saw her stop and stare at Bailey Ferris. He
was staring at her, too—and again a pang of sudden, unexplained
fear coursed through me. There were two other flashy-looking
individuals in the car with him and soon they continued on their way.
The
whole village was agog over this visit of the notorious gambler. We
all wondered what he could possibly want here, and we all were
nervous. His entire stay lasted a week but his activities were
completely mysterious. The second day he paid a call at the
schoolhouse. When my daughter, Janice, came home she seemed unusually
distracted, a strange smile hovering on her lips.
"Dad,"
she said sometime later, "Bailey Ferris came to the school
today. He introduced himself—didn't try to hide his identity from
me. When—when you talk to him he—he doesn't seem like a notorious
character at all."
"Watch
your step, daughter," was all I could say. "That's all
front. He's got a bad reputation, and there must be a reason for it."
But
Janice seemed to be caught in a spell. She spent some part of every
day in his company and I dreaded seeing the brightness in her eyes,
hearing the lilt in her laugh whenever she returned from some date
with Bailey.
It
was the sixth day that the blow fell heavily on our village. It got
around fast that Bailey was there to oust us from the village, buy up
all the land and set up a gambling and ski resort. Underneath the
shock of this news I felt also a sense of relief: now Janice would
see this Bailey as he really was and would get over the
infatuation—or whatever it was—that she obviously was
experiencing.
Our
little band fought with every means we knew, short of violence, to
resist the despoiling of our happy village of Glencairn, but nothing
could stop a man from buying up property that was available—and
none of us owned the land we had lived on so many years.
That
day I noticed Janice was in a state of gloom—to my relief. She came
straight home after school and was going that night to the square
dance with Hunt Harris. "She'll get over it," I assured
myself. "She couldn't really love such a heel." All the
villagers, even the older generation, go to the square dances and I
accompanied the young folks there. Janice danced—the young men
wouldn't leave her alone. She was a mighty pretty girl and very
popular. But she was not herself. I was sure she was thinking of that
Bailey Ferris.
Then,
for one moment, I saw her eyes light up. Bailey had come into the
door. He beckoned to her and I saw her hesitate. Then she left her
partner and went to Bailey. They had a heated argument; he was
grabbing her arm and I started to go to them on the steps outside
when Janice pulled away and came back into the room, her eyes
flashing. Bailey dashed into his car and sped away.
The
next day we all received notices that we had a month to get out.
There was nothing we could do so we decided to move en masse to the
other side of Mt. St. Anne where some broken-down dwellings, long
deserted, still stood. We would repair them as best we could in the
short time and move in. People, years ago, had tried living there but
many disasters—landslides, avalanches—had finally forced them to
leave. Gloomily, we all took up our lives there and in a mood of
pessimism called our new village, "Hope's End." In a year's
time, Bailey Ferris had built up a lavish resort at Glencairn, where
the rich came to gamble and ski. With bitterness in our hearts toward
him, we all kept to ourselves and made it a matter of principle never
to return to Glencairn.
But
Janice returned there. To my grief, she had fallen madly in love with
Bailey and when one day he appeared at our house to see her she went
gladly with him—despite my protests, warnings, threats. How I wish
it weren't so, but he seemed to be really in love with Janice and
wanted to lavish her with the luxuries of his misbegotten wealth. He
told her they would be married. Then, as he walked out of the house
with my daughter, he laughed at me. In a rage, I called down the
curse of the mountain upon him. I demanded revenge and asked our
mountain to wreak vengeance upon Bailey Ferris.
The
life at Glencairn proved a horrible disappointment to Janice—the
gambling, drinking, card playing, with Bailey usually engaged in a
game of poker were not to Janice's taste. Her love for Bailey was
real but she led an unhappy existence. And she couldn't come back to
"Hope's End." She had become an outcast to the bitter
villagers.
One
early morning, with the snow on Mt. St. Anne glistening in a
brilliant sunlight, Janice went out alone for a ski run. She reached
the very top with the ski-tow and then started down. Then that
dreaded sound of an avalanche—a loud roar—broke the morning
silence. Number with terror Janice made a futile attempt to change
her course but tons of snow and ice hurtled down and overwhelmed her.
Her groping fingers, her struggling arms reached upward—but she
sank into unconsciousness.
The
disaster had been seen in Glencairn. A rescue party set out
immediately and in a few hours Janice was found and brought below. By
a wondrous miracle she was alive, and I'll say this much for Bailey,
he saw that she got every possible attention, medical and nursing. He
showered her with gifts and affection.
Two
days after the accident, Janice wanted to speak to Bailey. She seemed
anxious, overwrought. "Bailey—I must tell you," she
began. "But—you won't believe it. It will sound crazy."
"Tell
me anyway," Bailey urged her. "Let's hear what it's all
about, honey."
"You
know," she began, "I had been completely buried under the
snow. I felt myself suffocating, gasping for air, but my nostrils
were clogged with snow. Then I felt hands grabbing me. Snow was being
shoveled away from me and I was being pulled out from that cold
grave. In my shocked state I thought I was dreaming but the hands
belonged to—oh, you'll think me mad—to a—skeleton! And the
other pair to a creature—like a bat—but tall, almost human. I
fell unconscious, but I came to again in a shallow cave. Again I saw
the same—creatures. They were playing cards! They were talking. The
skeleton belonged to a man who had been killed by an avalanche on the
wrong side of the mountain—where we built 'Hope's End.' The other
thing—was a Vampire! He considered the entire mountain his
domain—and the two things were gambling—the skeleton for my—my
soul, the vampire for my blood!"
Bailey
started to laugh. "Baby, your head was hit. That was a fancy
dream you had."
"Stop!
Stop laughing!" Janice yelled. "I tell you it wasn't a
dream. We all heard the rescue party approaching. The one that was
the Vampire said—'We can wait—we have all the time in the world.'
From fright, shock, horror, I passed out again—but those creatures
were there I tell you."
Janice
was so overwrought, Bailey could not quiet her. "All right,"
he said finally. "We'll form a skiing party and go back to the
sport where we found you. Whatever it was there that scared you—we'll
come back and tell you about it." Half afraid, half eager to
know, Janice agreed that a group should go.
When
the time came Janice was ready to join the party. Bailey was angry
and tried to stop her, but she was firm, insisted upon going along.
The
party went to the peak by the tow-line, then Janice, holding hands
with Bailey, led the way down. Some strange force seemed to be
pulling her downward, her eyes were bright and her lips were smiling.
The people following could not get the speed that carried Janice and
Bailey far ahead and out of sight.
And
then again tragedy fell. A terrific avalanche started just ahead of
the scouting party and they stopped short, horrified at the
realization that the two skiers ahead were bound to be hit by the
falling snow and ice.
It
was all over quickly. Becoming a searching party, the skiers hurried
to get to Janice and Bailey, hoping against hope that they would not
be too late. Suddenly a skier let out a frantic yell—he had come
upon a cave. As they all hastened inside the sight they beheld left
them speechless.
A
motionless skeleton, in a sitting position propped up against a wall,
was facing another skeleton—whose queer outlines, with winglike
appendages, made them all remember as though with one thought,
Janice's story of the gamble for her soul. An ace of spades lay
between them upturned—and lying on the ground dead were the bodies
of—Janice and Bailey.
But
no one ever knew which creature won the gamble.
