And The Mountain Moved...

And The Mountain Moved...
By Carnotaur

What is about to be read is from the diary of a certain man, one Carlisle [REDACTED]. Carlisle, an uninteresting man of middle age, 58 to be precise, lived in his small town of [REDACTED], up until his death during the [REDACTED], which he himself was not just a victim, but in fact a now posthumous historian on the days leading up to it. He was Keeper of diaries from an early age, and had recorded a valuable portion of his life in the last book used as his documentation. Out of the twenty listed diaries, this one had been mostly used, and with only eleven pages left. Within the last seven pages, which cover six days, Carlisle told his account of the events leading up to the [REDACTED]. As well, his own thoughts of his calm and uneventful life are told as the main point (at least in the majority of the entries), but what he tells is the only source so far discovered telling of the build up to the incident. The attempt to remove all traces of this event has been successful, and the accepted narrative is challenged little, as it should be.

3/13/22
The neighbors are getting on my nerves. I already have addressed that in my previous entry, but in a course of a day, I’m at my wits end. It’s been about three days so far, and I am both concerned and agitated. The year or so they lived next to me as been utterly uninteresting; just another young couple who look like another product of this century, who, at one point, acted like another person you could hardly call a neighbor. I likely haven’t exchanged more than a few words with them, and I’m not surprised. But with how loud they are, I’m perplexed that the other residents aren’t concerned. Oh well. I believe it is the man that is the first one to start acting hysterically, and the woman being the victim. I sense no sign of abuse, likely another case of mental-illness, which at this point, is not even worth pointing out. Everyone is nuts anymore, maybe even myself.

He‘ll start babbling, slowly getting louder. I can’t make out words, because the houses aren’t close enough. Nonetheless, either their walls or mine are quite thin, or perhaps us both. I think tomorrow will be the day that I confront them. I’m too old to listen to these people, heard enough for years straight. Not as bad as then, I’ll say.

Of another note, I have another thing to note. This morning, as I was looking out the window drinking my joe, I was looking at the mountain. I do it everyday, so I know most details, I thought it that there was less trees on it. Not sure why that would be, but if there less, I supposed some could have fallen during the storms two days past. Upon closer examination, I saw fallen trees. To my surprise, however, they were exposed at the root. What a storm it was. I take no concern over it, though.

3/14/22
I took it upon myself to visit the occupants of the other house. I find it my duty so. I am no snoop, and I don’t thrust my nose into other’s business. Yet I guess I retain that virtue of care of other people which I doubt the neighbors would ever have for me. I left around 1:30, and took the short walk over to their door. I knocked, and did not have to do it furthermore, nor did I have to ring the doorbell. The woman answered. I was greeted by the Caucasian, overweight, colored hair, and to be blunt, trashy occupant. Even so, she did not seem very rude. She said hello, and I returned the greeting. Before I asked of her partners well-being, I could tell she knew I was going to ask it. I enquired, saying I was wondering if everything was alright, and she obliged to simply state that her boyfriend was simply overly tressed. I took this as a lie, because of obvious reasons. I still asked if there was anything I could do to help them, and she said no. With that, I said have a good afternoon, and left their residence.

As I walked back, I suddenly remembered that the husband (who I might add was not well enough to meet me himself) had began acting deranged shortly after the storms swept over. Probably two days at the most. Coincidence? I cannot tell. There was nothing off about said storm, except maybe for the continuous thundering which went one for the three days. Come to think of it, the mountain and the others around it were being struck by lightning, but storms are storms. I have no explanation for the hysteria, but I do wish it would end, whatever issue it is.

Later this evening, I could hear him once again. I decided to open the window, and see I could hear him clearly. Sure enough I could, but any words he said seemed to be babbling. I think I could discern one sentence, though, and it assured me the man was suffering some form of disturbance. It was something about throbbing.

3/15/22
The man has stopped! I have no clue why, but how glad I am. He was erratic last evening, but when I awoke, I heard nothing, and at this time, 9:00, I hear nothing still.

I took my usual walk around the neighborhood, and checked on their house: Normal. Both vehicles were there, and no one had left, seeing that the large amounts of detritus and dirt at the end of the driveway and on the road were not disturbed. They hardly ever were, the couple never leaves. But, it assured me he was not in a hospital, or at any rate an insane asylum. Now that he has stopped, I am fine to no longer investigate. I can now sleep. It wasn’t the worst couple days I’ve had.

During my walk, I once again had my attention drawn to the mountain. From the average glance, nothing seemed wrong. The same trees could be seen laying dead under others still living, and the snowy frost of winter was finally thawing. We have had the longest winter, and snow has not yet fully disappeared. My curiosity had to do with the snow. On the mountains jagged layers of escalating rock, all the caught snow was melting away. But, some areas were not. In some places, a large patch of snow was gone, but all around it, in a fairly well done circle, the white remained. The clouds of the previous storms still lingered on the peaks, and the sky is still a dull gray. The clouds do not seem the slightest strange, but the aspect of the odd melting patterns are of interest. I wonder if anyone else is paying any attention. I have not seen anything on the news, which does not surprise me. The local story of some cheery form or another, and the constant political reverb is all you get. The mountain is weird, and the others are not. I would assume some scientific explanation, but with the previous noticeable difference I am uncertain. Come to think of it, I don’t think I remember seeing the trees fallen down right after storms. The storms had already passed.

3/16/22
As I write this, I am the most concerned. The man has still remained silent, but now I am experiencing something odd. I had a dream. Now that is no issue, except it had to do with the mountain. I have just realized how I written of the mountain in the previous three entries, and somehow took no notice. Since the storms, things are indeed strange. From the babbling person, to this now present dream. I shall recount it, which, unlike most of my dreams, the details have remained. I was standing on the roof of my house, looking out at the mountain. It was a full moon, the clouds causing the orb to flair out subtle colors. The mist still sat upon the peaks. All the trees were fallen, and there was no more snow. The air was no longer cool, but an oppressive heat. I stood like this for a time, then I looked down at the road and the other houses. There was no one else, and the ground was black. So black that I wonder if there even was ground. Suddenly, I felt something hit me. Not physically, but more like a pulse or energy. It happened over and over again. I felt my head throbbing, and my muscles feeling week. Then, I looked at the mountain. The mountain appeared all normal, except for the fact that it looked as if it was cracking. Then, towards the north side, to my left, the rock faces fell away... and I saw a massive eye.

That’s where my dream ended. Still now, my head hurts, and throbs. I recall the man next door. There’s something off about the mountain, and it’s doing something to me.

3/17/22
The time I am writing this is night, and I nearly forgot to put in an entry. But, I was brought back from sleep to do so.

Things are getting strange, to say the least. My head is throbbing, and the dream happened once again, only a few minutes ago. I am now convinced that whatever plagued my neighbor now is associated with me. I write this at my window, observing the mountain. As I speak, massive clouds are gathering, shown by the bright, nearly full moon. It is looking ever similar to my dream. As well, the air is growing hot, the snow is almost gone. Does no one seem to notice? Maybe it’s getting hot to me, and I’m losing it. To make it worse, my neighbors have not made a sound, and I wonder if they are alright. I have not seen any of them leave, and seen no lights on. All I can say is that I must be ill, possibly a sickness caught from the other household, and I am being mentally tortured by my own delusions. Whatever sickness, bacteria or virus, it was, I cannot identify. I took aspirin, but that seemed to make it worse. The throbbing migraine that is. But, I am tired, and wish to sleep, I will write more tomorrow.

3/18/22
It is alive, and it will awaken. I have once again dreamed, but now the dream has shown me much. More detail has shown me the truth. Slumbering amidst ignorant populations for uncounted years, waiting for the perfect storm. All the trees are fallen, the warmth of life has melted the snow. No one sees what I am seeing, seeing as I did in my sleep, and the throbbing will likely take my breath, as it likely did the others. The incomprehensibility of it’s breath and stirring noise cannot be heard without agony. While civilization wanders aimlessly, not taking notice of the thaw and rustling, in the deep of night.

I will likely write no more, but let me describe what I can: The moon is full, and the sky has a color I cannot describe. The air is hot, I believe from the form gaining vitality. I merely sit at my window, waiting for the unknown yet likely event. The storms are returning, because I see the clouds once again gathering over the mountain range, but mostly over that one. The wind is picking up, and I expect rain any minute now. The lighting will give the last jolt to the slumbering, and awaken in unintentional horror. I hope someone may find what I have written, but I feel it unlikely; I suppose there might not be much left.

Several minutes have passed, but I am writing again. Yes, I must, because it is happening. The rock face is cracking, so ironically the face of the hidden. I have just realized how poetic I am being, certainly a consequence of my state (might as well go on). Rain pours like tears, and the air is sweat-inducing. Any second there will be a tremor. Yes, there it is, the first shake. Now awakening the sleeping who also sleep in the day from ignorance of the megalithic. There it goes... Arising. The beast cannot sleep any more.