October 18, 2008
Voices Out of the Mountain
I found a large rock and sat.
Here on the very top of Thunder Butte, one looks out forever, into that vast expanse of range land, the Great Plains as early settlers must have seen it.
So far removed from the earth that as we know it, everything is tiny, seeming to disappear into nothingness.
Sleepiness hovers in the air, black clouds hang on the horizon, nothing stirs, birds are quiet and a deathly silence pervades the atmosphere.
Sleep descends, the mist settles over my mind and I curl up on this big rock in deep s l e e p -----------
Suddenly the earth is trembling, Thunder Butte feels to be alive beneath me, clouds are settling around the butte, it is growing dark.
Awake at last, my horse is gone, a sudden trembling beneath my feet again---- did I just hear someone moan? Was it the wind?
I am growing desperate. The wind has a biting chill---can I ever find my way down the mountain?
Picking my way over the precipice in the darkness, it is necessary to pass by a number of caves which lead in to the bowels of the mountain.
Feeling my way along the rock face, I am in the mouth of the first cave, the blackness in the cave is even darker than the night which cloaks the mountain.
Deep within the cave a voice, faint, almost indistinct, plaintive, pleading----h e l p m e~
and I ran, panting, sweat soaking my clothes, stumbling on the narrow path, falling------
Rolling downward, finding myself in the entrance of the second cave.
From the blackness, groaning and another voice, faint, unintelligible.
My body bruised and scratched, I am white with fear, clothing soaked in sweat, the mountain shakes and trembles and voices come from the bowels of the earth in an increasing crescendo. h h e l --------he l p ----
more moaning as from an unearthly, demonic presence deep within the trembling earth.
Falling, falling, tumbling end over end, hopeless thundering landslide coupled with cracks of thunder and lightning striking everywhere.
Wake up, John! Wake up!
You will be late for school. You know what the teacher said last time you were late. "You day dream too much."
I should not have had that piece of cake before I went to bed, but I peek out the bedroom window just to be sure old Thunder Butte Mountain is still there.
--Gene Crowley
Editors note: Happy Halloween!
Here on the very top of Thunder Butte, one looks out forever, into that vast expanse of range land, the Great Plains as early settlers must have seen it.
So far removed from the earth that as we know it, everything is tiny, seeming to disappear into nothingness.
Sleepiness hovers in the air, black clouds hang on the horizon, nothing stirs, birds are quiet and a deathly silence pervades the atmosphere.
Sleep descends, the mist settles over my mind and I curl up on this big rock in deep s l e e p -----------
Suddenly the earth is trembling, Thunder Butte feels to be alive beneath me, clouds are settling around the butte, it is growing dark.
Awake at last, my horse is gone, a sudden trembling beneath my feet again---- did I just hear someone moan? Was it the wind?
I am growing desperate. The wind has a biting chill---can I ever find my way down the mountain?
Picking my way over the precipice in the darkness, it is necessary to pass by a number of caves which lead in to the bowels of the mountain.
Feeling my way along the rock face, I am in the mouth of the first cave, the blackness in the cave is even darker than the night which cloaks the mountain.
Deep within the cave a voice, faint, almost indistinct, plaintive, pleading----h e l p m e~
and I ran, panting, sweat soaking my clothes, stumbling on the narrow path, falling------
Rolling downward, finding myself in the entrance of the second cave.
From the blackness, groaning and another voice, faint, unintelligible.
My body bruised and scratched, I am white with fear, clothing soaked in sweat, the mountain shakes and trembles and voices come from the bowels of the earth in an increasing crescendo. h h e l --------he l p ----
more moaning as from an unearthly, demonic presence deep within the trembling earth.
Falling, falling, tumbling end over end, hopeless thundering landslide coupled with cracks of thunder and lightning striking everywhere.
Wake up, John! Wake up!
You will be late for school. You know what the teacher said last time you were late. "You day dream too much."
I should not have had that piece of cake before I went to bed, but I peek out the bedroom window just to be sure old Thunder Butte Mountain is still there.
--Gene Crowley
Editors note: Happy Halloween!
Mike Crowley Saturday, October 18, 2008