Mountainous Terror

"killed two men," Lina's grandfather replied sternly.

"no, he never..."

"he's an enemy of the state," Lina's grandfather continued. blatantly ignoring the crying mother's pleas, he kicked the child off the scaffold.

a sickening thud echoed in the square, when the child's neck broke; Lina felt her stomach twitching in a knob and almost threw up.

in horror she watched her grandfather kicking the other child off the scaffold—another thud accompanied by wild cheering.

when all five people had been executed, her grandfather climbed off the scaffold, victorious.

"well," he said to the mother kneeling underneath the hanging body of her boy, "your punishment will be different—you married an enemy of the state, bore another one...you must, too, be punished and exterminated."

the three hooded men picked the woman up and the whole crowd followed Lina's grandfather and the men carrying the wailing woman on their shoulders through the village's streets.

Lina, too, followed, curious and horrified; in the meanwhile, she managed to steal glimpses of the altered village—the buildings looking brand new, the dirt streets.

and most of the faces so young...she recognized the old men she played poker with, even though they were hardly men—hardly older than twenty.

she followed the crowd, which chanted about redemption, up in the mountains, through a narrow passageway crossing the dense foliage.

the parade stopped in front of a massive, dark cave.

the three hooded men placed the still-wailing and squirming woman right in front of the cave's entrance—and hastily backed away.

Lina's grandfather chanted incomprehensible words at the cave's entrance, then instructed everyone to back off—and they all did, their eyes glinting with both fear and anticipation.

Lina, feeling secure in her invisibility, remained near the woman—suddenly, the ground shook violently. no one moved, however.

in sheer horror, Lina watched the two thick, slimy tentacles that came out of the cave and wrapped themselves around the woman's body—she struggled and screamed in terror.

in seconds, she disappeared into the darkness of the cave; Lina didn't dare enter the cave. the woman's loud, painful screams were more than enough for her already frail state of mind.

the crowd cheered and her grandfather made grand proclamations of justice. finally, they all headed back to the village. Lina, in sheer disbelief, watched her grandfather, alongside Zacharias and another of the old men from the poker game, lowering the dead bodies and building a bonfire, wherein they threw the corpses.

then, Emily—young and perky, hardly sixteen years old—came out of the coffee shop, carrying a tray filled with glasses and several bottles of tsipouro.

with the strong, nauseating scent of burning flesh quickly filling the air, everyone took a seat at the metal tables scattered about the square and toasted to their good health and the riddance of the 'enemies of the state'.

"Nick, don't!" Emily screamed, when a tiny baby crawled, slowly but steadily, toward the bonfire—when it came close to it, its screaming cries shattered the air.

she rushed to him and picked him up, planting plenty of kisses on its mortified face.

"Damn it," Lina panted, when she opened her eyes and jumped off the couch, her hands trembling wildly.

She rushed to the bathroom, vomited, then washed her face vigorously; however, not even the ice-cold water could rejuvenate her. A sudden jolt of burning pain from her ass reminded her that her encounter with the ghosts was not a dream, yet...the dream itself was far more painful than her being anally assaulted by two ghosts.

How much of it was true?—she helplessly asked her reflection in the mirror. Could it be the ghosts had, somehow, implanted memories in her? Memories of others, memories from a dark past, from...

She refused to believe her grandfather would ever have been involved in such an ordeal; it was damn fucking impossible, she scolded herself for even believing that...

As she returned to the living room, waiting for the coffee to be brewed, her gaze fell on the notebook on the table—was it on purpose the ghost had pushed her against the bookcase?

Could it have had an ultimate purpose and not just an attempt to hurt her? She picked the notebook up carefully—one sudden move and it'd be completely torn.

Carrying the notebook with her, she poured a cup of coffee and lit a cigarette; she sat at the kitchen table, dragging long from her rolled-up cigarette, and tried to read the almost unreadable handwriting.

Before she could even read beyond two paragraphs, however, a commotion from outside distracted her; carrying her cup to the large window overlooking the square, quite certain it was just Nick and his usual shenanigans, she glared at the crowd—not even one tenth of the size of the crowd in her dream, yet, the whole village had been amassed.

She dropped her cup, when she noticed what had everyone buzzing—a scaffold had been set up by the oak tree, and two nooses were hanging from the branch.

"Terror's here!" Nick's thunderous voice penetrated the thin glass of the window. "The dark moon's upon us again! Beware! Prepare for judgment day!"

Lina saw Emily hurry to Nick and violently drag him inside the coffee shop—though a bit far for her eyesight to catch all the details, Lina was dead certain Nick had been locked inside the coffee shop.

In the meanwhile, the rest of the crowd—older versions of faces she recalled from her vivid dream—remained standing in front of the scaffold, exchanging low, frightful conversation.

"Shit!" Lina cried, when she stepped on the broken cup with her bare foot. The sharp pain, however, was exactly what she needed, as it took her out of her trance-esque state.

She picked the small pieces of glass off her foot, cleaned the wound, and bandaged it quite hurriedly; then, limping, she cleaned up the mess, while constantly stealing glimpses of the square.

Several men had undertaken the gruesome task of disassembling the scaffold and cutting the ropes; while she cleaned up the glasses and spilled coffee, the men had removed all evidence of the gruesome sight that had probably been a nightmarish "good morning" for everyone.

With newly brewed coffee in a new mug, Lina sat on the couch, cigarette hanging from her lips, and the notebook open in front of her. She dragged a long puff, blew the smoke out slowly from her nose, allowing the faint burning to overwhelm her.

And then, she bent over the notebook and read:

I still remember my grandfather telling me never to trust anyone; he said, we're the most hated village in the mountains, they all want to hurt us. 'child,' he said in his usual hoarse voice, 'never trust anyone. never leave the village. always stay here. without you, without our bloodline and family, they'll all perish.'

those words really stuck with me; I was hardly six back then. I listened to him, I loved my grandfather after all and respected him wholeheartedly, but...how could I have known, back then, what he meant?

how could I have even imagined the terrors that hide in plain sight? the horrors that...the reason we're so loathed, feared...

even amid the civil war, where brother kills brother and son murders father—simply because they have opposing political views—we are despised by everyone. everyone from the area, that is.

we had guards from the capital, and chiefs of communist clans fighting guerilla wars in other mountains, try to recruit us. they didn't know, they didn't care. they needed able-body men, and women, willing to fight, and die. for some ideals we never heard of, never gave a damn for.

some people went with the guards, others with the communists. we kept them both happy; I just hope our people come back. I doubt it. too much death taking place, and all that for how to run a country doomed to die, anyway.

we have other problems, though; and not many know about it. it's time for the dark moon, once more.

a sacrifice.

perhaps, then, the civil war is the best thing that could've happened to us; perfect excuse to kidnap and kill, to...find a new sacrificial lamb. if we get questioned, we'll say the dead were from a village affiliated with the enemy—the enemy of whomever comes asking.

unlike the rest, our dead will die a purposeful death. a much better fate than the one offered by the politicians and the guerillas. they fight a meaningless war, committing atrocities because they can—we do the same, but, because we MUST.

that's what my grandfather said; what my father told me. and what I tell myself every single day. especially whenever the dark moon approaches.

Most of the notebook was filled with repeats of the first text; her grandfather's thoughts on the things he had to do, the crimes he had to commit. And while he never specified the nature of the crimes, Lina knew—a feeling of certainty flooded her mind regarding the reality of her dream.

Whatever monstrosity lurked in that dark cave, it was the reason behind the crimes. As she scanned the notebook, searching for a passage of a different nature, she fell on the part talking about her mother:

a girl! my child's a daughter! and I can't feel any happiness whatsoever. it was foretold, a woman of the bloodline that brought the horror will end the horror. that means only one thing; I'll raise my daughter the best I can, only to sacrifice her when she's older.

it'll end the horror...it'll put an end to all the deaths. it'll make our village peaceful again. no longer the need to kidnap and murder and sacrifice...I can't do it. no way.

something must be done...too early, she's only eight days old and there are plenty of years, I think, before the ultimate sacrifice. I'll find a way around it, I'll...something. I don't know.

my wife's calling, she needs me. must go. my baby girl needs me—if only she knew...if only she ever learns...

finally! (Lina read the last few lines of the notebook, after going through five pages of her grandfather's repeated thoughts and worries) Melina agreed to go to Athens. agreed that the tensions in the village are not the best place for a young girl to grow up in.

she wants me to go with them; how to tell her, I can't? if I leave, the horror will eventually come out; it'll seek the bloodline that created it all these eons ago. as long as I'm here, my daughter will be safe. if only I don't let her come; let me be considered a bad father.

doesn't matter. better than seeing her dragged into the horror's lair. I'll go help them pack, I'll...

The notebook ended thusly; Lina searched for more pages, for another notebook. Nothing hidden amidst the books, nor anywhere else. Her grandfather did send her mother and grandmother away; but, he let her mother, and her, visit him.

Of course, she suddenly realized, those visits were always short; he never allowed them to stay longer than a few days. A week was the strictest limit he had; even when they wanted to stay longer, he'd shoo them away, even threatening with violence.

Lina had never understood that; her mother had told her that he was just a cranky old man, who liked solitude. Yet, now...Lina wiped her watery eyes and re-read the notebook, more carefully this time around. However, there was no additional information to be derived out of it.

What there was in there, she already had read; and it didn't help her one bit to understand what was going on. The sole thing she knew with certainty was that she was in danger—after all, she, too, was a female of her grandfather's bloodline.

The bloodline that brought the terror—what could it mean? For her, for the village, for...?

With nothing else to do, she got dressed and went to the square, where the normal rhythms of the seemingly idyllic life had returned—Emily was serving tsipouro and mezedes at the poker-playing group of old men, while Nick ran aloof, crying for the approach of the dark moon and the horror, while the women of the village chatted at the grocery shop over fresh vegetables and fruits.

Yet, as soon as she was noticed, everyone's expression changed—Lina caught the momentary change, as they all put on cheerful masks. She realized immediately, there were no answers to be gotten out of them.

Hence, she took her seat at the poker game, drank some tsipouro, and pretended never to have seen the scaffold and nooses that appeared in the middle of the night—nor did she mention her dream, or the notebook.

Something was coming, and probably soon, but, she was all alone in it.

* * * *

She rocked to the dance music fervently, eagerly accepting the crude groping delivered by two hunk guys—dressed all too villagely—and finally able to forget, even just briefly, the nightmares of her newfound reality.

"You're not from around, huh?" One of the guys asked her, his hands firmly on her buttocks, gently squeezing.

"No," she responded with a giggle, her fingers through the hair of the other guy, who suddenly buried his face in her cleavage.

"Shows," the first guy laughed. "Only capital girls are slutty enough to let us grope them!"

"Right," she giggled awkwardly—at the moment, however, she didn't care for the characterization, nor for the innuendo thrown. All she needed was to escape reality, even if it meant acting like a slut in front of people she didn't know, and never again would see.

Hence, she swigged down her gin and tonic and motioned to the waitress—a young girl hardly older than eighteen—for another one. With a sly, meaningful smile, the waitress brought her order almost immediately.

The fuzzy taste flooded Lina's mouth and she put her glass down, once more returning to the frenzied dance, grinding her body against the two guys, who had now sandwiched her—she felt their erections and an involuntary wide smile lit her whole face up.

"Why don't we take this back to my place?" She asked them, after another round of drinks and more wild dancing/groping-festivities.

Despite being caught off guard, both guys agreed—and exchanged a curious look, which Lina immediately saw and read.

They all got in her car and she drove off, the drinks she'd had now making their impact felt—she drove slowly and felt grateful for the empty roads of the middle of the night. However, the lack of proper lightning and the curvy roads traversing the mountains, and going over sharp cliffs, did not aid in her attempt to relax and forget.

After half an hour, for what normally was a ten-minute drive, they arrived at Lina's village and she parked by the square. They all climbed off the car and momentarily Lina threw her glance at the oak, fearful she'd see yet another scaffold—the night was peaceful and quiet, though, and nothing out of the ordinary had made its appearance—yet.

"This is where you live?" Raphael—tall, muscular, brown-skinned, and black hair—asked in bewilderment.

"Fuck," Tony—slightly shorter than his friend, however, far bulkier, and dark-skinned—spat. "Isn't this..."

"Yeah," Raphael nodded, then shushed his friend with a quick gesture.

Lina did not say a word—her heart pounding in her chest, she led them into her grandfather's house and locked, and bolted, the door behind them.

"Please, have a seat," Lina pointed at the couch. "Anything to drink?" They both refused, so, she just poured a gin and tonic for herself before sitting between them.

Almost immediately, both guys put their hands on her exposed thighs, as her skirt was lifted and her bare ass directly touched the couch's fabric.

"You're both impatient, huh?"

"You got us all hot in the club, baby," Raphael said, then sucked on her neck.

"Yeah," Tony agreed, slowly raising his hand along her thigh, forcefully spreading her legs even further. "You didn't bring us here for drinks and talk, did you?"

"Probably not," Lina moaned, as Raphael was doing a pretty good job on her neck, causing shivers across her spine—she gazed at the large window overlooking the square, almost certain she'd encounter the ghosts once more.

Nothing there and she let out a deep sigh—Tony's fingers connected with her slit and she squirmed gently, when he started teasing her clit.

"Hmm, damn!" Tony smiled widely. "All shaven! That's why you capital girls are the fucking best! All our girls have such bushes, you have to search for the cunt!"

"Will you," Raphael chuckled, "try to be a bit more civil, man? This is a classy lady, not some backwoods broad you usually..."

"Why don't you just stop talking?" Lina told them sternly.

They both obeyed immediately and focused on her—Raphael thrust his hand in her shirt, fondling her breasts, while Tony knelt down between her legs, his tongue reluctantly, at first, connecting with her wet slit.

"Much better," Lina groaned and leaned her head back.

She pressed her thighs together, trapping Tony down on her—she ran her fingers through his short hair, pushing him tighter on her. With her shirt lowered, and consequently her breasts exposed, she guided Raphael's head on them, writhing as they both licked her, her nipples and clit getting sucked and stimulated.

Already losing herself in the magnificent sensations, she slid her hand in Raphael's jeans, taking a firm hold of his erect prick struggling under the tight, hard fabric.

He helped her pull it out and she gasped, when she noticed its thickness and all its protruding veins. While Raphael still sucked on her breasts, swirling his tongue around her hard nipples, she stroked him slow and nice, feeling him throb under her palm.

In the meanwhile, Tony flapped his tongue inside of her, intensifying his rubbing her clit whenever she grunted; abruptly, he lifted her ass and guided his tongue on her asshole, licking it softly in a circular fashion.

It was yet another intense wave of joy that shot through her body, as his tongue relaxed her tense muscles—Raphael groaned, when her grip around his prick tightened way too much, nearly crushing it under her clenched fist.

Immediately, and with a faint smile, she relaxed her grip and went back on stroking him, faster this time, while Tony used both tongue and fingers to stimulate both her holes, causing her body slightly to tremble and wetness to build in her cunt.

She gasped, when Raphael twirled her hair around his hand and thusly pushed her down on him—his prick's scent was strong—probably he was unwashed for more than just a couple of days. Lina, beyond herself getting turned on by the strong scent, wrapped her lips around the mushroom tip of his rod and swirled her tongue, thoroughly enjoying the involuntarily jerking of his body.

And the more intense Tony's licking and fingering of her pussy got, the more she tried to swallow down Raphael's shaft—his forceful pushing helped her get him all down her throat, her chin now resting on his swollen, hairy balls, while she gagged and choked on his meat.

It was Raphael, who controlled the pace; by pulling her hair, he moved her head up and down—she felt the rough skin of his prick gliding along her wide open lips, while the tip banged the back of her throat mercilessly.

"Come on, man," Tony said, as he got up to his feet, dropping his pants and revealing his erection, "you're not alone here!"

Lina cried in surprise, when she was pushed off the couch—on her knees, panting, she looked up at them, as they slapped their rock-hard pricks on her face.