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ecotone99 · 6 years ago

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[SF] The Dog Men of Cannon Mountain

Hey guys, wrote this a while back and forgot about it. Was really trying to write it in the style of good old H.P Lovecraft while also trying out some of my own style, so if you're wondering why things are vague or strange that's why. Submitted it for a writers contest recently because hey why not. anyhow, if you could all give me some criticism on how to improve or if it was good or not, what you liked/hated, that'd be swell. Thanks.

The Dog Men Of Cannon Mountain:

It is with a painful recollection that i attempt to tell this tale. Even now the fever of the mind plagues my psyche in trying to recollect that horrid encounter in that dreadful cabin on that cursed mountain in nineteen forty eight. Had i been a man of greater foresight or perhaps a time traveler i would have warned myself of the grievous travesty my small circle of friends and i were doomed to bring to fruition. My name is Edward Phillips, this is my tale of terror.

In the early days of fall the Eastern coast of the United States begins to change. The leaves on the trees shift into a state of beautiful decay, causing the ever present greenery to descend into a blissful amber and many a man can be seen gawking in the general upward direction of these sights. Accompanying the intricate differences in fauna comes the drastic shift in climate temperature that spreads like an icy weed over the coastline and inevitably inward toward the greater United States. The cold. The Snow. That dreaded ice giant that stumbles out of the nothing to bring with it a cold so deep and unforgiving that it permeates the countryside far longer than wanted or expected.

With such a bleak and even harrowing description of the East coast one wonders why a man may choose to live in a place so damn unforgiving. The truth is, that the men and women who populate this area of America are of great resilience to their mother nature, and are some of the most pleasant individuals one can come across in life, if you’ll believe it. They work hard for what they earn, and ring true to the image of the ideal American. Many from outside the parameters of this area would insist that the man of the east challenges the great winter giant on a yearly basis, belittling and poking fun at the angry beast that controls his environment. Like a badge of honor, the hardy people of the eastern seaboard take great pride in the innumerable downsides of their habitat, and none i dare say are as kind hearted as the ones who reside in the great state of New Hampshire, where my tale unfolds.

New Hampshire, compared to a majority of other states is a dismally small blip on the map geographically speaking. However if one were to find themselves within the expanse of its mountain ranges they’d swear the place had no borders, only an endless realm of untamed wilderness and beauty, a frontier of palpable primordial spectacles. No different from the rest of the state is the town of Franconia, who resides nearest to Echo lake along the highway ninety three with very little as far as population goes. I was not a denizen of this area but rather from the neighboring state of Massachusetts within the town of Marblehead. My close friend and esteemed colleague of Emerson College also located in Massachusetts, Daniel Barker, had been birthed in the town of Revere. Daniel however, was gifted with the luxury of both parental figures originating from a wealthy area in Rhode Island, whose name eludes me. Daniel had always had a modestly rich family, one who would probably look down upon my company as a man simply for my choices in clothing and of course, my wealth, or in this instance lack thereof. They had always been an uptight lot of people with serpent like qualities of character. Daniel was cut from a different slab. He was everything his family was not, to say that which he was a kind, charitable and above all else entrepid youth of twenty with an appreciation for the stillness and serenity of nature.

During our studies at Emerson College we had both found a mutual interest in the confines of books and storytelling to the greatest degree of friendship despite our societal hierarchy being on opposite ends of the spectrum. He was a tall, handsome fellow with a squared jaw, a barreled chest, strikingly perfect hair and unmistakable charisma. I myself was a bookish lad of nineteen with circular spectacles, combed over brown hair and an average build. While some may say my features are handsome i will never define myself in such a manner, as i no longer look in the mirror for fear of something looking back at me. Peculiar it was that daniel and i would become so closely bonded over our time in school together that once a year, for the past three years at least, we would all venture up toward his families luxurious cabin up in the hills of Cannon Mountain and enjoy the sights, drink a variety of different ales and liquors, and of course, write to our heart's content without the indignation of outside parties. The festivities occured much to the chagrin of his mother and father, who swore up and down that myself and our other good friend Henry would corrupt his character. This current year however, the family was quite adamant about allowing us time together, insisting that we get away for a while.

This time we had decided the trip would take place in January. All of us were in concurrence with the notion and planning began in early December. While the trip itself only ever lasted three or four days at best, it was of the utmost importance to be prepared for an extended visitation should the weather change for the worse. This time of year the snow falls heavily and consistently, burying the vast majority of the state in a blanket of fresh and clean crystalized powder. We had ample provisions stashed away in anticipation of our endeavour to the cabin, myself having prepared a large pack with various warm clothes, wool socks, a small box filled with miscellaneous medical supplies in case a member of our three man party should sustain an unforeseen injury, and of course, a hefty amount of stationary implements for my intended writing. Daniel was a well prepared lad who had brought a variety of different tools for survival in the great outdoors such as flint, a folding shovel, matches, a barbaric looking survival knife, and of course a Krag Jorgensen carbine. This cut down Norwegian weapon had been a gift from Daniel's grandfather when he had turned seventeen, and while i personally had no interest or notion of knowledge toward firearms, it made us all feel safer when alone in the woods should some bear creature take too close a curiosity with us. Henry, of course, brought with him tools of inebriation. While only a man of twenty himself he had developed a habitual liking into the bottle, not so much that it controlled him, but closely enough for people to assume it all the same. Of course, each of us brought a respective pair of snowshoes.

The drive was a slow and daunting one, Daniels automobile, while something neither Henry or myself could dream to afford in the near future was indeed an advantage, it was a treacherous drive riddled with uneasiness and a certain questioning of the mechanical dependency with which we transported ourselves, at least for Henry and myself. Daniel, as always had maintained his supreme confidence and capabilities of mobility, never once calling into question his ability to take the icy roads by storm at speeds reasonably less safe than preferable.

We parked the automobile in a dirt and snow covered lot several miles south of our desired location, taking by foot into the hills and ascending into the mountains with gusto. So enthralled I felt by the winter surroundings that lavished the countryside, So carefully placed did the icicles form from the tips of trees. So fresh the air was. So quiet and vast was the land we tread. So foolish i was to allow my friends the fate they would soon be given.

After an hour or so of tiresome walking we came to the cabin, which rested in between a somewhat open fielded area at the base of one of Cannon mountain and a thickly forested void. It was a splendid sight to see, two floors in total were it’s structure, with only two doors, one on either end, and a long window overlooking the entirety of the valley like landscape before us on one side. That night the chimney plumed with the smoke of aged wood prepared and chopped by Daniel a month prior, and the cabin was alight with pleasant conversation between the best of friends. Merriments were had and stories we all knew and had retold infinite times prior were brought up in their endless cycle of humorous repetition as friends do. That night, i turned in early do to exhaustion from the hike here. As i ascended the immaculate wooden staircase I peered down to Henry and Daniel, who of course were still going on about their travels and lives, pasts and futures. Had i known this would be the last night of solace we would all share together, I'd have at least stayed longer than i had.

That night, i lay in my small guest bedroom, sitting up and gazing thoughtfully out the circular window at the bluish hue the moon cast upon the frigid wasteland that enveloped us. The trees were like golems of wood in the distance, still and undisturbed by our playful antics. Strangely, in all that vast stillness on the horizon my eye was caught with the scarcest bit of movement within the far off tree line. Blinking several times to adjust my eyes, perhaps seeing something that wasn’t there, i focused outward again. There it was. Slow moving and large. A misshapen apparition haunted the distance. At the time i had attempted to rationalize with myself, being a boy of many anxieties in childhood. A hunter perhaps. Man of the woods who stalked it’s denizens for sport. That had to be it. Just then as i found myself coming to terms with my conclusion, the bulky anomaly halted. It was said once by my father that a man can feel when he is being watched regardless of distance, and up until this moment in time i had thought my father a fool for believing he had such superhuman senses. Yet here i was, feeling as though despite the ludicrous space between us, that this nameless thing had seen me, had locked eyes with me and had stared back without the slightest notion of fear. Somewhere down stairs a bottle broke, followed by laughter, startling me enough to pull my eyes from the window temporarily. Naturally when i looked back I could make out no apparition or strange being gazing menacingly off in the snow somewhere. The only notion of difference now was that the wind had picked up considerably. I laid myself down to rest and thought no more of it.

The next morning i awoke relatively early as the sun came up. Walking quietly downstairs to the larger living quarters, i notice Henry lazily passed out on the old, long sofa that took up the most space in the cabin. Daniel was standing in the doorway, scratching his head. As i approached him to figure out why he looked so perplexed my senses were bombarded by the stench of death. I pause momentarily to analyze the scent which viciously overtook my nostrils. Reaching the door, Daniel was staring down at the carcass of some type of animal on the porch. A very young deer perhaps. I had to turn away for a brief interlude, trying not to expel whatever remained in my stomach from the night prior. Daniel stared at the poor creature with remorse and disgust simultaneously. I looked back once more at the amalgamation of dead flesh. It was a sickly sight, the animals limbs were bent and contorted in disproportionate, painful and unnatural ways. It’s stomach had been spilled by several large slash marks on the visible parts of the belly. The throat flapped and leaked dark blood. The Fawn had a variety of misshapen sticks pushed into its body that it’s snapped legs were wrapped around and it’s long, pulpy tongue stuck out of its mouth with a sickly deep purple. No longer could i hold back, i ran past Daniel and into the snow, releasing my innards and tainting the white with bile. Soon Henry had stirred and risen to much the same reaction as myself. He and Daniel removed the carcass soon after that, disposing of it in the thicket of woods not far away.

That afternoon the snow began to fall very quickly. The skys greyed within minutes and the wind howled ferociously. We came to the conclusion that whatever had performed that sickening display of torture could not have been some simple animal, the injuries were too brutal for a simple minded predator to perform with such needless hate. This had to have been the doing of a man, a cruel man. surely. We decided that it would be best to head back to the vehicle first thing in the morning, and return with haste to our respective homes for fear of some further harassment in the form of pointless cruelty. There was no telling of tales that night by the fire. No jostling of humorous intent that we all wanted. Only an eerie suspicion that we were being watched from afar, and while any man could attest that no living human could survive the blizzard outside and live to tell of it, I had a feeling in my gut that it was something beyond human that circled our cabin like prey. As we all drifted into uncomfortable sleep that night by the dying fire, uneasiness spread over us like a cancer.

A dream came to me that night, one of great looming fear. Out in the cold distance, beneath the trees, I could see eyes. No ordinary eyes of man were these. They were a sickening red that had a dull lifelessness about them. A stare of foreboding utterances and dark promises. It knew I was scared, and it welcomed the idea, relished it even. This apparition sat motionless, cloaked in the shadow of the trees. Behind it, more eyes similar to the first opened up. A cluster of hateful and predatory vision cast itself at me, on me, into me. I could hear strange whispers in the dark of no known language, as if some ancient tongue shared between these faceless monstrosities was speaking and planning. But of what i know not. The feeling of being watched by some hateful pack of things lasted far longer in dream than I’d ever known a dream to last, as i felt i would spend an eternity locked in gaze with these creatures. A violent scream tore me from my mental prison.

Henry, who was thrashing on the couch next to Daniel had begun wailing in pain and fear. Both Daniel and I had sprung up immediately in confusion to try and awake him from his nightmare, only to find the normally quite skinny and frail lad to be overwhelmingly strong in his erratic movements. He began to shout.

“They’re coming! They’re coming! They’re out there! They’re coming!” he shouted.

Daniel and I were both attempting to keep our composure, but managed to restrain our friend and shake him awake after the better part of five minutes had passed. When he finally awoke he broke down into tears. We had little to offer him as far as comfort went, as Daniel and I found ourselves lost in a sense of directionless fear. When questioned as to what happened, he spoke of a vivid dream, or better nightmare that he was trapped in for some amount of time. He went on about The Hounds of the hills, the things he saw attempt to take him in his mind. It all made very little sense to us until he had mentioned something about the eyes in the distance, to which i felt a sense of icy recollection wash over me. Henry and i had experienced something of a similar experience, except his was far more long lasting and detailed. Daniels complexion had been made pale by our friends ramblings, and as we both went into the small kitchen to get Henry something to drink, i questioned him about if he had had a similar dream. We were left dumbfounded when we both came to the realization that all three of us had shared a similar night terror. That simply did not happen. Apparently my experience had been the least harrowing of the three of us, with mine only reaching climax at the beginning of Daniels ordeal which apparently had lasted hours, which begs to question just how long Henry was trapped in his own mind. Daniel was feeling a bit ill weathered, and i had noticed his hair looked longer and out of place, perhaps the result of his frightful sleep escapade.

Upon return, Henry was curled up in the corner of the room, rambling on and on about the Primordial Pack who sought new flesh for their growing family, the Dog Men of the Mountain who had been here long before the world of man, the ones who had terrorized the Native Americans, who had lived within the mountain for eons until they desired new blood, who would call to those unfortunate enough to hear their dream howls. At once i felt a mixture of emotions stirring in my mind. I simultaneously found myself pitying poor Henry for having such horrid visions forced into his gulliver, and yet, a sense of relief that i had not been as unfortunate as him. He would not take the glass of water. He would not hear anything we said. He was not even here.

Just as we were preparing to set Henry back to sleep on the couch, a powerful thud landed on the front door. Then another. And then another, the third accompanied by a horrifying noise. So inhuman and evil was the gurgling bellow that i found myself sweating at a cyclic rate, backing away from the door. Henry had begun to clutch his temples and opened his mouth as though he were screaming, but no noise escaped him. Daniel quickly retrieved and loaded his rifle, pointing it at the door. I had no weapon what to defend myself with. What felt like hours passed. Henry was still mumbling something to himself.

“Don’t fall asleep Daniel.” he said. “That’s how they turn you. Don’t fall asleep. They want you Daniel.”

I rushed over and plugged Henry’s mouth with my hand for fear of Daniel shooting him. His madness had truly driven him to a deep insanity, but there was no denying i felt the urge to heed his words. By the time Daniel had lowered his rifle, it was somewhere around one in the morning, and we were suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion. The wind still echoed eerily in the distance outside. My mind swirled with possibilities and the faint possibility that our death was approaching and yet i found my eyelids curiously heavy. Daniel was resting his back against the fireplace which now housed only hot embers. I attempted to keep Henry awake, as I noticed he had already drifted to sleep, his lips still chattering wordlessly. Shaking him did no good, slapping him had no effect. I turned to Daniel. If we were going to come out of this, the person with the gun would be the best one to remain sane. I crawled over to him with great effort, trying so hard not to pass out, my limbs held the weight of someone three times my size. Daniel had begun to flutter at the eyelids, and as I found myself too weak to reach him i lay my face down, catching a glimpse of something watching me in the window as my eyes shut on their own, my screams internalized due to the helpless state my physical body had been left in.

I dreamed again, drifting through the endless mire of the mind. Now the eyes in the distance became clearer. The misshapen denizens of the mountain took a step out of the darkness, perhaps finally piercing the last mental barrier that held them back, and approached our sanctum of the cabin. Slowly they came, some walking upright and dignified, others on all fours more akin to the beasts they looked like. They were not always proportionate, and were in some areas sickly thin while others muscular and strapping. The darkness still shrouded them almost entirely, making features hard to distinguish with exception to the large ears and hellish red eyes transfixed on myself and my friends, who were staring motionless out in front of the porch, unable to move our bodies in the slightest. They were everywhere and from all angles. The closer they came through the howling wind and snow the more I found myself growing colder and colder. The pale moon somehow shining its light upon the beasts made only worse our situation, as blindness would have been preferable to watching your doom encroach.

Just before the pack closed in completely, outstretching their clawed hands and exposing a set of jagged sharp teeth from a mouth so unnaturally wide, I awoke. I was back in the guest bedroom. At once i threw myself out of the comfort of my bed and looked out the window. Nothing, not even the wind.but i was not convinced. There was no possible dream so vivid as this, so deep with memory and detail. Unless i was still asleep. I’m not sure to this day what was a dream and what was not. I cautiously walked down the stairs, praying for some form of relief in the sight of my friends. Hoping against hope that they were of sound mind and body.

Henry lay motionless on the couch in sleep. The rifle rest against the fireplace. The door was partially open. Daniel was nowhere to be seen. Hurriedly i rushed over to shut the door to seperate ourselves from the frozen hellscape. I walked over to the other side of the cabin where the largest window was and attempted to pour myself a glass of water from the small kitchen. It was a much welcomed drink. I gaze out the large glass window, feeling a sense of what i hesitated to call relief. There were still many questions to be answered, most prominent of them all was our friend Daniels whereabouts. The only logical explanation was that Daniel had awoken before myself and Henry, and decided to put us both to sleep in our respective beds. That was just like him, a kind man even in such a dismal, bleak scenario. But where was he?

A large, clawed hand slapped against the thick glass of the cabin window, causing me to jump back. Raising itself to level with my vision, my greatest fear was made reality, the eyes and teeth of the dream beast had focused on me yet again, this time i finally got a good look at the thing, though in all my mind i wish i hadn’t. It was a hideous, primeval creature, it’s skin was a dark oily blue with even darker blue patches of long mangey hair. It’s large ears were canine in nature, but not like that of a lycan of myth but something more unnatural and gut wrenching. It’s flat face exhibited small nasal passages and it carried with it a sickly smile on it’s outstretched maw. Many of them began to appear on the window, slamming their powerful hands against the glass in anger and hateful frustration. The now wavering, cracked glass was the only thing that seperated my frail mortal body from these ancient monstrosities. They growled and gurgled and howled into the night as the glass was soon to give way. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and I made back to the living room where Henry was still asleep. I attempted to wake him in vain yet again, only for the front door to fly off its hinges.

It was Daniel. Or at least, what had become of Daniel. His arms were stretched out thin and long, covered in tufts of blueish hair with hands ending in long nailed fingers, his mouth was not his. The jaw of my friend was now unhinged and stretched downward in a sickening display of dripping, boiling salivation and rows upon rows of strong sharp teeth. His shirt was torn and tattered and his shoes were absent. Daniel attempted to writhe and stumble forward toward us, gripping at his temple with one hand and stretching out the other in a grabbing gesture, as if half his mind were fighting the other half to retain his humanity. I called out to him, pleaded with him to resist, to stop. He did not. He lurched forward, eyes disproportionately twitching involuntarily, one sad and somber the other sunken, red, and straining forward with an indescribable pain.

A crack pierced the air and Daniel dropped to the floor, blood oozing from a silver dollar sized hole in his skull. To my shock i turned to see Henry, Brandishing our friends rifle and twitching uncontrollably. He turned the rifle toward me in a fit of frightened retaliation should i have met a similar fate as Daniel. I had not. We stared at each other for a brief interlude and he lowered the gun.

“T-They got Him, Edward. They got him. They wanted him. I-I’m sorry.” He spoke in such a somber tone, racked with guilt for his murderous deed. He began to cry.

“...I’m sorry too Henry.” I said somberly.

The glass in the kitchen finally gave way, much to our surprise. From within the cramped kitchen now scrambled a horrific, thrashing mess of the predatory assailants, surely coming to either eviscerate us, or worse, turn us into one of them. Henry fired another shot into the kitchen.

“Run Edward! For god's sakes, run for the car!” Henry screamed at me as he continued to fire into the mound of hellish beast men. I didn’t hesitate, and for this reason alone i consider myself a coward. I turned and ran out the from door, only for Daniel to grab at my leg, somehow still alive after a bullet through the cranium. His touch was one of icy hellish hands that sent a splintering pain into my body. With the knife in hand, i slashed at his hand in a fury of strikes, screaming, nearly severing my former friend at the wrist and rushed out into the blizzard, behind me the unnatural wailing of hate and bellowing of monstrosities was matched with the ever prevalent gunshot. As i faded into the blinding snow and headed down the mountain through the moonlit darkness, the sounds of Henry firing the rifle faded into nothingness.

I ran for what must have been hours, aimless and lost in a north eastern blizzard without so much as a jacket to prevent my untimely demise. Far behind me, the echoes of the Dog men filled the night. They were after me for sure. It was only when i reached a road of unspecified origin that a passing policeman had found me. I was a hyperthermia riddle pale ghost of a man clutching a bloody knife in a snowstorm, rambling about monsters and the death of my friends.

When i was finally subdued and brought into hospital care, i was questioned by the police about what had transpired on the mountainside. The tale I told, this one, was enough to land me within the psychiatric ward of greater Massachusetts until the trial for my friends disappearance and subsequent murder, which i fear i will most certainly be found guilty of, takes place in the following weeks. The police returned to the cabin several days later, only to find it completely empty, albeit with signs of a struggle and broken glass littering the ground. Sitting in my padded cell, i hesitate to sleep for fear of what i may become. I have been disowned by my family for my madness and ostracized by society, but I know. I know what lurks out in the wilderness, and I know that i will never be free of the image of that thing that plagues my mind. What purpose they serve eludes me. They are beyond my or your understanding. Their motives are their own. I will always fear them, for the remainder of my days. Those ancient, evil earth devils. Those hateful, unnatural things. The Hounds of the Hills, the Eyes in the Distance, The Dog Men of Cannon Mountain.

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