Mountainous Terror

Lina's trip to her grandfather's village up in the mountains was

not

a well-thought out decision; all she needed was to escape the frantic rhythm of her life and, most importantly, to be away from everything reminding her of Peter—he had died of alcohol poisoning and everything in the apartment they had shared for two years was just a cold reminder of how she had failed miserably to notice the signs of his growing alcohol abuse.

She sat at the village's central square, in the only coffee shop, listening to stories from the elderly, and only permanent residents—stories from old times, from when things were vastly different. And yet, she could not concentrate, didn't really care to listen about the

good ol'times

, didn't need lessons on coping with loss from people that spent their entire life in a village with twenty houses.

"We're all gonna die!" Nick—the village's idiot—screamed. "It's coming! We're all dead!"

"Nick," Emily, his mother and the coffee shop's owner, scolded him, "will you stop? You're scaring poor Lina. Don't worry, honey," she addressed Lina and patted her comfortingly on the knee, "Nick's just...a bit cuckoo. That's all.

"Your grandpa was the only one who could talk some sense into him."

"Was Nick

always

..." Lina stopped—she did not want to hear about her grandfather, who had died two years earlier. Besides, her grandfather had been the only person in her life that had seen through Peter's sober façade.

On his deathbed, and after having seen Peter just twice, he had warned her about him: "he's bad news, this boy. He's a good enough boy,

but

, he's carrying too many monkeys on his back. Too many demons in his head."

A few days after he had said that to her, he had died; and Lina never paid any real attention to her grandfather's warning; dismissed them as a dying man's last rumbling, attributed his words to his over-protectiveness.

"Are you okay, honey?" Emily shook Lina from the shoulders.

"Hum,

yes

," Lina looked about flabbergasted—momentarily, she had stood next to her grandfather on that dreadful hospital bed, ignoring the other five dying men in the room. "Sorry, I was just thinking about..."

"It must be hard," Emily nodded understandingly. "But, I can tell you, it feels good for all of us seeing your grandpa's house being used again. It's been awfully dark and empty these past few years...

"We've missed him, ever since you took him to Athens, to get him that treatment..."

"Yeah," Lina rubbed her closed eyelids. "He never liked it there; always kept talking about this place, about his

home

...I'm not sure if we did..."

"Don't fret over it now, honey. It's no use. What's done, is done."

"Right," Lina tried, and failed, to smile. "So, honestly, what's wrong with Nick?"

"Beware!" He screamed, causing them all—Lina and Emily, as well as the four old men sitting at a nearby table playing cards and drinking

tsipouro

—to jump up. "The terror's coming, again! It's the time of the dark moon!"

"He's probably watching too much television, or something," Emily shrugged. "I don't know

where

he gets all these ideas from, to be honest. Maybe..."

"You should lock him up somewhere!" One of the card-playing men said harshly.

"Mind your own business, you old bastard," Emily rebuked. "Why don't you do something about

your

son, who lives with that black guy?"

"Go fuck yourself," the old man mumbled under his breath and swigged his drink. "Come on, play!" He yelled at the other men.

"Sometimes," Emily said with a sad smile, "I think it was your grandpa that kept this place together. With him around, there were no fighting, no arguing...even Nick was calmer.

"Ever since he left, ever since you—" she cleared her throat and threw a quick glimpse at Nick, who was examining the huge oak tree in the middle of the square, under which shade they all were sitting, "—well, we've been falling apart.

"Some people have died, tourists leave in the middle of the night...we even had gunshots in the middle of the night."

"

Gunshots

?" Lina asked, alarmed.

"Yes," Emily nodded sadly. "Zacharias," she pointed at the old man still swigging tsipouro, "said he saw shadows underneath his house—probably a couple of tourists taking a walk, and he fired several shots at them.

"Never learned who he shot at, but...at least, there were no casualties. Only some mortified tourists; of course..."

"Things are

tense

up here, huh?"

"And Nick's definitely not helping..." Emily sighed heavily. "All this talking about 'terrors' and 'dark moons' and what not...has people on edge. Even me, and I know he's just spurting nonsense."

"Could be something he read, or something..."

"It's all in his head," Emily interrupted Lina, though her voice came out quite unconvincing. "Nothing to worry about, really."

"And yet," Lina said, "as soon as it gets dark, you all lock yourselves up in your houses."

"There's nothing to do at night here, honey," Emily shrugged her shoulders. "I mean..."

"Yeah, I know," Lina hastily said, suddenly wishing to put an end to the conversation.

"I'm sorry," Emily got up, "I have to tend to these old bastards; if I leave them dry for longer than five minutes, they'll start shouting and...well, we don't want that!"

"Sure, sure," Lina smiled and had a sip of her coffee.

Nick was approaching her and immediately she felt uncomfortable. She rolled a cigarette, simply to distract herself, while Emily went into the coffee shop.

"Hey," Zacharias said to her, "how's your poker?"

"Not good," Lina replied.

"Wanna learn, then?" He continued. "We ain't gonna bite, I promise!"

Lina watched Nick approaching in his unsteady steps and hurried to take a seat between the old men—one of them poured a glass of tsipouro for her, which she swilled down eagerly.

"There you go," Zacharias patted her on the back. "Just like your grandpa. He could handle his tsipouro, that man."

"Yeah?" She raised her eyebrow.

"He could outdrink the lot of us, trust me."

"Oh yes," Panagiotis, the man on her left, nodded. "Your grandpa was a hell of a drinker;

and

a hell of a poker player. Let's see if you've got something from him in you."

"I doubt it," Lina drew a deep breath and accepted the second glass of tsipouro. Nick had gone back to talking to the oak, though his words, thankfully, were inaudible to Lina.

"Don't corrupt the girl, you dirty old bastards!" Emily protested, albeit laughingly, when she put more tsipouro and a plate of

mezedes

on the table.

"Why don't you have a seat, too?" Zacharias invited her.

"Sure, why not?" Emily rolled her eyes and joined the game.

The next couple of hours went by quickly, as they all played and guffawed, while more and more bottles of tsipouro were emptied. The sun began its descend behind the tall mountains and it was then Nick cried:

"It's here! The dark moon! The terror! It's coming!"

"Oh, damn it," Emily groaned. "All right, I guess it's time to wrap it up for today. I have to get him home."

"Yeah," Zacharias said, nervously looking about at the rapidly darkening sky. "I should better get going, too. Valery will murder me, if I'm late for dinner."

And with that, they all went to their homes; Lina slightly stumbled, feeling lightheaded from the tsipouro consumed. Gratefully, her grandfather's house was just two minutes away from the square; she went in, locked and barred the door, and found solace in the peace and quiet of the two-story old house.

She laid down on the couch, the world around her faintly spinning; too much tsipouro and only now, that she had stopped drinking, its effects became prevalent.

Yet, there was a bright smile on her face, as she quickly faded away in a dreamless slumber, as she pictured her grandfather sitting in the square, outdrinking everyone and winning at poker—she had a hard time picturing him as this great drinker and poker player, and yet...how much

did

she know about him? About his life in the village?

In her last conscious moments, before Morpheus entirely welcomed her in his world, she realized her grandfather had never spoken of his life in the village, of his past...her mother had told her he had served in the army during turbulent times in his youth, but, even she didn't know much.

No one seemed to have known her grandfather; except, perhaps, his old buddies; and thus Lina's resolution was to find out as much as she possibly could for her grandfather.

And, with that, she fell asleep.

* * * *

She sat up panting, awoken from a horrible nightmare about...what was it? She had already forgotten it, though grotesque images of blood and death still haunted her mind.

A loud thud rang from right outside the house; she glared at the window, her heart in her throat. All the windows were locked, and yet...a sudden fear she was not alone in the house overcame her.

She turned the light on; everything was just the way it was supposed to be—the old furniture, belonging to her grandfather's parents, the paintings on the wall, the old editions of books slowly rotting away on the shelves succumbing to mold...

For almost four years, no one had come to the house; no one had visited, cleaned it. It had been left to rot and, had she not decided to come, it would have eventually just crumbled down, nothing more than another abandoned landmark of another epoch.

The big clock on the wall said three in the morning and she heard distinct steps from right underneath the window; yet, she did not dare approach, at first. Who had broken the unofficial curfew?—she wondered in silence, drawing deep breaths in a desperate attempt to calm her fast-beating heart.

The sound of footsteps was replaced by low whispering—hoarse whispering that traveled with the strong breeze that suddenly began to blow. And thus, Lina, cautiously, walked to the window.

At first, she saw nothing out of the ordinary; just the dark shadows of the peaceful village, the deserted square...and then, she lifted her gaze upward and met the sight of the

dark moon

—while full, it did not shower the world with its regular greenish light.

Instead, it was perfectly dark, just a black sphere in the sky, discernible only through the thin circle of green fire that stood out amongst the distant stars. Immediately, Nick's forewarning—was it a forewarning?—came to her mind; she tried hard to recall whether she read anywhere about an eclipse.

She hadn't; and she read plenty of newspapers online daily, in her effort to remain up to date with current events. It didn't even look like a regular eclipse. With the corner of her eye she caught the sight of two ghastly shadows lurking in the square, seemingly peeking into the house—staring straight at her!

Lina gasped and backed up, almost stumbling in her own feet. Suddenly, all was calm, except for the ever-increasing in strength wind that caused even the massive oak to tremble.

She froze still, when the two ghastly figures stood right outside the first-floor window, staring dead at her—she backtracked from the window, her eyes wide open, and stumbled on the couch, nearly tripping over it.

The two figures continued to stare at her—she noticed their old-looking uniforms, their menacing glares, their wide grins. She pinched herself on the arm, groaned from the pain, but, the figures were still there, still staring at her.

Lina had no idea what to do; the two figures continued to float over the street, standing right outside the window. When one of the figures pushed the locked window and its hand went right through the glass, she remained aghast.

Both figures were inside the house, approaching her steadfastly; she opened her mouth, to scream, to plea for help, but, no sound would bypass the huge lump in her throat.

All she could do was to remain still, her fists clenched and sweaty, watching the two figures circling her—just like lions circle their selected prey.

"Sins of the father comes down to the child," one of the figures said in a coarse voice—Lina was petrified, but, when the same figure pushed her down on the couch, she dropped heavily, panting helplessly as the two figures stood right in front of her, imposingly and threateningly.

"Stop it!" Was all that came out of her mouth, when the ghost's cold hand ripped her shirt apart and groped her breasts.

A hard slap across her face was the response she received; she put a hand over her stung cheek, her scarlet skin on fire.

The cold hands of the two ghosts continued to explore her body, boldly rubbing her breasts and stomach—while she remained still, finding herself completely incapable of reacting.

Their coldness caused shivers to cross her spine, especially whenever they paid attention to her nipples—abruptly, a tight grip was wrapped around her neck, forcing her up on her feet.

Her pants and panties were lowered down to her ankles and she thusly stood naked and exposed, trapped between the two ghosts—she moaned heavily, when the ghost's freezing hand connected with her warm pussy, the icy fingers spreading her labia.

"What do you..." she muttered—as response, the grip around her neck tightened, blocking the rest of her sentence.

"Payback," was the sole reply the ghost gave her.

She grunted, when the ghost's prick penetrated her ass—at first, it stung like hell, but, her cries were drowned from the extremely tight grip around her neck.

The ghost's prick continued to push its way in her, stretching her all too tight asshole and Lina could do nothing but take it, as she squirmed and writhed, quickly surrendering to the bizarre sensation of both pain and pleasure.

Without too much forewarning, the ghost that held her from the neck guided its cock in her slightly wet pussy—her hotness and its iciness made for an intense contrast, which only intensified Lina's overwhelming lust.

Her legs lifted up in the sky, penetrated brutally by both ghosts, she found herself lost in the sensations—horrified by her own self, for actually enjoying the whole situation, she stopped fighting.

She simply enjoyed the hard plowing the two ghosts were delivering, their bodies becoming warmer the more they stayed in her; Lina closed her eyes and was able momentarily to forget her two fuckers were ghosts in uniforms she knew she had seen somewhere—but, could not recall where, or why.

The hard pounding ensued and the ghosts continued to stretch both her holes, their pricks separated only by a thin layer of muscles, as they grunted and groaned—she could only breathe through short outbursts, whenever the ghost slightly loosened its grip around her neck.

Yet, whenever it squeezed, whenever it choked her, her body tightened up and she could thusly feel them even better in her, as her muscles engulfed their ghostly pricks in a tight embrace—to which the ghosts responded by intensifying their rhythm.

"Fuck," she cried—half in joy, and half in remorse—when her toes curled and her legs began to shake violently. The ghosts responded to her convulsions and shaking by intensifying even more their pounding—to which Lina responded by coming hard, letting out a loud scream, which was quickly drowned by the ghost squeezing her neck hard.

Struggling for breath, Lina's eyes grew watery, while her body was overwhelmed by a phantasmagoria of orgasmic fireworks—and the ghosts simply continued drilling her holes mercilessly, while she continued to come, in her hitherto most prolonged, and intense, orgasm.

Finally, the ghosts pulled out and dropped her unceremoniously on the couch—she sat there, her legs trembling uncontrollably, and her glance fell on the ghosts' still erect pricks.

Then, she noticed their hateful eyes—and her heart skipped a beat. Before she had time to realize what was going on, the ghost that had choked her, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to the massif bookcase next to the fireplace.

It shoved her against the bookcase; with the old, hardcopy editions of old classics right in her face, she grunted when the ghost jerked her hair back and drilled her ass.

She panted heavily on the wood, her head bouncing hard against the books, causing the whole bookcase to shake dangerously; the ghost continued to pull her hair back while slamming her ass, its swollen balls slapping on her soaked cunt.

Even amidst the heat of the moment, Lina wondered why she was so aroused by the situation—moreover, she could not forget the ghost's first words.

While she continued to writhe in pleasure, her body becoming even more numb from the orgasmic waves that traversed her spine, the ghost increased its pace, fucking her ass as brutally as it could.

Its angry grunts reached Lina's ears—she realized, suddenly, that the more she enjoyed herself, the angrier the ghost became. However, she could not help herself, as she was caught by a second, mind-blowing orgasm that had her ejaculating all over the floor, her juices showering the ghost's now-solid body.

She screamed, when it jerked her hair back violently, forcing her to arch her back painfully; even in this uncomfortable position, however, Lina thoroughly enjoyed the intense pounding.

It was with fury, and pure hatred, the ghost continued to pound her—while the second one had seemingly disappeared—against the bookcase.

And, abruptly, the ghost pulled out of her ass, leaving her slightly gaped, and slammed her head on the bookcase, before it vanished in thin air.

Lina, left all alone and panting, leaned on the bookcase and with deep breaths tried to recover from the bizarre, and strangely satisfying, ordeal.

Mechanically, her gaze wandered through the titles of the novels right in front of her—and between classics like

War and Peace

and

The Inspector General

, she noticed a worn-out notebook, seemingly hidden between the sturdy hardcopy editions.

She picked it up and looked at its yellowish pages, the hasty handwritten notes. Almost religiously, she put it on the coffee table, then laid down on the couch, overwhelmed with exhaustion.

Almost as soon as her head hit the hard pillow, she fell asleep.

* * * *

she looked about at the square, where the amassed crowd called for blood; she walked through the cheering crowd, men women and children, her heart beating fast. she reached the oak tree, from where five nooses were hanging.

and then she saw him! her grandfather—all too young and handsome—holding a machete up in the air, encouraging the bloodthirsty crowd. in front of him, on their knees, three men and two children, trembling.

the realization hit her almost in an instant—their clothes were all too similar to the outfits the two ghosts were wearing! Lina walked up to her grandfather, but, no one paid any attention to her. even when she waved at him, right in front of his face, he did not flinch.

he simply continued waving the machete, calling for war and bloodshed.

Lina felt completely lost, as three men in hoods picked the kneeling people, blatantly ignoring the howling cries of the children and unceremoniously shoved them up on the makeshift scaffold.

it was her grandfather who wore the nooses around the neck of all five of them—tightening them around the necks, while sporting the widest of satisfactory grins.

"what's going on?" Lina demanded—no one heard her.

"no!" a scream came and a woman, dressed in rags, pushed her way through the crowd and tried to reach one of the children—a boy no older than ten, all covered in mud and dried up blood.

"back off," Lina's grandfather kicked the woman away; she fell on the ground, tears streaming down her dark brown eyes.

"please, he's just a child, he's..."