Son of the Mountains

During those weeks I lived almost only off pain medication and water. Every now and then some marijuana as well, if I had the strength to smoke, and sometimes soup, which a girl from the village brought me, and which I forced myself to eat - I hoped it might help me getting better.

The girl was short and burly, as all women of the village. Her cheeks were dark, almost black, burned by the merciless sun of the day and the biting cold of the night. Her long hair was plaited into two braids that dangled along her back. Above it she wore a hat that was decorated with colorful ribbons of similar color as her traditional skirts. Nothing distinguished her from other young women of her village, except for the fact that she, just like her father, knew a few words in my language.

While I ate she sat on a stool next to my bed and smiled. Every now and then she got up and walked to the door, to look outside into the twilight.

When I finished eating I was always tired and fell asleep very quickly. Hours later I would wake up, trembling and sweaty and with a vague memory of feverish dreams. Every night the fever shook me in my sleep. In my dreams I saw my boyfriend whom I had left back home - after an argument, he didn't want me to go away. He would always stand on a hill a little distance from me and look at me, calling to me. But when I slowly took a few steps towards him an inexplicable fear would overcome me, which caused me to wake up.

My whole body hurt each time I woke up, and I would search for the pain medication next to my bed - the girl had brought me those as well. I swallowed them with some water, and maybe also rolled a joint. The rest of the day I would spend in a semi-awake state, starring at the dirty wooden beams holding the ceiling, on which a spider sat - the only living being to keep me company. However, it hardly ever moved. Then again I would glance towards the door that had been left ajar, to guess if the twilight outside was that of dusk or of dawn.

Every now and then I remembered my parents, who by now must be going mad with worry for me. After all I hadn't given any life sign for at least two weeks, maybe even longer. I had no idea of how much time I had already spent in this village that time seemed to have forgotten.

*

Not even a week had passed since I had stepped out of the airplane, when in the market square of a small town, into which only very few tourists found their way, I got to know an elderly man. He spoke my language well enough to have a conversation with me, and told me that his youngest daughter was just my age, and that he had taught her my language. Then he asked me if I was interested in getting to know a traditional village community.

This was the kind of opportunity I had hoped for and only two days later I was sitting in a crowded bus that was bumping along sandy paths next to steep cliffs. I concentrated on the accumulation of people, chickens, all kinds of luggage that can be imagined, purchases from town that had been squeezed into the much too small bus. As long as I watched all this I didn't have to look out of the window, despite the breathtakingly beautiful landscape, I was scared of the maddening race of the bus. The few times I dared a glance outside, I saw how close the drop-off was, and how little stones, loosened by our vehicle, tumbled down into its depths.

Finally the bus driver told me, that we had almost arrived, and really, next to the street there stood the man that had invited me, and the girl with the long braids who was now bringing my soup every day. I grabbed my backpack and climbed out of the bus. A young boy, who during the journey, had called out the different stations climbed quickly onto the roof of the bus and threw down my second, bigger back pack. My acquaintances right away offered to carry it for me. We still had quite a way to go, and from now on the journey would be on foot.

The village was situated several hours from the closest road. We climbed up narrow paths. At first dry grass, cactuses, and thistles grew around us. Then the landscape became ever drier and more gravely. The pathway nestled its way up close to the mountains, on one side deep underneath us, a river was spilling over stones. On the other side llamas stared at us with their curious big eyes from above. Finally we reached an expanse in which besides dry grass nothing seemed to grow. We were on a plateau, but far away I could see pointy mountains partially covered by snow. I was tired, but finally we reached the highest point of our journey. In front of us there was a valley that was covered with thick fog. This fog crept up every evening from the nearby, yet much lower situated jungle, and underneath it the village was hidden, I was told.

It was already getting dark when we reached the village. Through the fog I could not see further than twenty meters, and the houses seemed to be standing in a nothing. The atmosphere was truly spooky. But a campfire lightened the little square, around which stood a few poor huts made of stone and thatched roofs. The fire glowed in a strange way. They did not burn wood, but rather dried excrements of cows and llamas. Of course, where would they find wood, after all I hadn't seen a single tree in hours.

A celebration was planned in my honour, I was told. After all, not often people from that far away came to the village. The rest of the evening was a rush of strange music, dances, simple but exotic and spicy food, and foreign tasting alcoholic drinks. Finally I asked where my bed was and fell asleep feeling dizzy but happy with my adventures.

The next morning I woke up shaken by fever and with a memory of the strangely pale face of my boyfriend that this night I had seen for the first time in my dreams.

It is the altitude and the food that I am not used to, they explained. They told me the name of the disease I supposedly had, but I forgot it right away. To travel back to town would be impossible in my state. But they did not want a sick person inside the village either, they told me it was bad luck. And because of that there was 200 Meters away on the mountainside a little hut, in which I could stay until I got better. They promised to get medication from town, even though buying them would take two days.

Since then I was lying here, and couldn't help thinking that I was getting worse instead of better. But the medication helped me to stay in a state close to unconsciousness, that made me not care.

*

"How are you?"

As always the girl suddenly stood in the room, just when my thoughts had wandered far away and her greeting made me start.

"Have soup for you."

I sat up and tried to smile at her. She smiled back, but as always her smile seemed distracted and so distant that I couldn't help wondering what dark thoughts she might be hiding behind this smile.

'Lying here all day is making me paranoid' I said to myself, and rather did not look at her anymore.

As everyday she sat down on the stool and gave me a bowl full of a thick yellow broth, in which swam some vegetables and a few lumps of meat. I ate, but even more than usual it was an unimaginable effort to open and close my mouth. Chewing hurt my jaw and teeth, and the food felt like a heavy, indigestible pulp in my stomach. I just couldn't eat.

When I had eaten about a third of the soup the girl got up and walked to the door, to stare out into the darkness. And for the first time the idea emerged in my head to use this opportunity. I just poured out the remaining soup onto the dirty floor, a little bit away from my bed made of straw and blankets.

'As soon as vermin is attracted by the rotting food I will feel sorry for this,' I thought, but right now I didn't care.

When the girl turned back towards me and saw the empty plate, she smiled her distant and empty smile.

"Taste well?" She asked. But her question seemed more a matter of being polite than that she expected a real answer, and thus I only nodded shortly. Then, without saying anything else, she left my hut.

As always after a meal I felt sleepy, but this day I didn't fall asleep quite as quickly as on other days and my sleep seemed less deep. The face of my boyfriend in my dreams seemed closer than usual. I reached out towards him with my hand and he did the same. He looked pale, and I felt coldness from him. "When I touch him all will be alright," I thought, when suddenly the door to my hut was opened and I thusly awoken from my sleep.

I was too dizzy to turn to the door or say anything. But I managed to open my eyes ever so slightly and for a moment I could see the girl that stepped back into my room, and following her, three young men.

One of them did wear a mask that hid part of his face. He seemed to not be in full conscience, maybe he was drugged: The other two men held on to his arms. He fought back against them, his whole body trembling, made loud grunting and hissing sounds, and seemed to have foam coming out of his mouth. He was younger than me, 19 or 20 at the most, and he pulled strongly with his arms, trying to escape the others' grip. They had their trouble holding on to him, an unimaginable strength he seemed to possess.

I was lying on my back, only the dirty thick woolen blankets, underneath them, my by far less dirty sleeping bag, (that I used like a blanket), were hiding my naked body. An old woman from the village had advised me to not wear any clothes while I was lying in bed due to being sick. My eyes were almost completely closed, yet with a short blink I had perceived the small group next to my bed. I observed everything that happened around me, but felt that I was unable to move.

The girl and the boys that held on to the crazy one, started to mutter something I could not understand. Their murmuring got louder and louder, the words spoken ever more rapidly. After half a minute they suddenly became silent and in the same moment they let go of the young man. Before I realized what was going on, he pulled the blankets away from me and jumped on me. I wanted to scream out of fear, I wanted to fight back, but my body did not obey me, just laid there motionless, as if I was unconscious - just that, in fact I was fully awake.

I felt his hands that touched me everywhere, felt them at first fondling my breasts carefully and then press them stronger, more painfully, then again the hands were on my stomach, in my face, between my legs. Everywhere, they seemed to fly over my body. They pushed in between my legs, forced them apart, stroked along the inner thighs upwards. His fingers tried to enter me. Then again they were suddenly on my breasts, pressing them strongly, holding them as his mouth approached one to suck on my nipple. But the next moment his hands again wandered down on my body, and his tongue as well kept searching all over my skin. He reminded me of an animal that does not find a quiet moment in what it is doing, and I almost expected him to bite me at any moment.

Again I felt his hands between my legs, felt his fingers force into me. Even though I didn't have control over my body, couldn't move at all, I felt everything as always, maybe stronger even: I felt I wasn't wet at all and that his rough fingers hurt me. He didn't care, he pushed his finger deep into me to open me, and I was unable to move away. At some point finally my body reacted and I felt how he could enter me without problems at first with one, then with several fingers.

With the other hand, his tongue, and also his teeth, he kept exploring my body in the meantime. He didn't care if he hurt me while doing so, and I was sure I would have bruises and scratches afterwards.

Then I perceived that he took his fingers out of me, and felt something new, bigger entering me instead. The boy was not particularly tall, as I had mentioned before, and his cock was in proportion to his body size. But my motionless body was more sensitive than usual and he entered me quickly and started to move inside me with a wildness that didn't give me any time to get used to him. While he did so he again uttered grunting and growling sounds, like an animal.

I fought for control over myself, wanted to fight back, to move away from him. Finally and with great effort I managed to open my eyes widely. I saw the boy who was crouching above me with glassy eyes between the eyeholes of his mask and saliva dripping from his mouth. He was still moving in a rapid pace inside me. Like a dog. Then he started to jerk and finally sank down on me; his eyes empty, and stopped moving. Between my thighs I felt his semen pouring out that he had just squirted into me. Disgust overwhelmed me when the drool that still dripped out of his mouth, hit my naked stomach.

Next to me the girl and the other two men stood and stared at me. Contrary to the boy they had noticed that I had opened my eyes. Several minutes they stood there like this, while I slowly started to feel a tingling in my legs that indicated that my control over my muscles was growing again. Finally the girl ordered the two men with just a movement of her hand to remove the third one from me. The two of them carried him out of the hut. He remained unconscious during this. The girl sat down next to me on my bed, and wiped the drool off my stomach with a piece of cloth, then she covered me with the blankets.

Finally, after what seemed several hours, she spoke to me. "That should not happen. With drugs you should sleep. Better for you."

She found the spilled soup on the other side of the bed and frowned. Then she stood up, left the hut, and soon came back with some rope in her hand. She took my hands and pulled them up over my head, there she tied them together, and then she fixed the rope to one of the wooden beams next to the wall that supported the roof.

"Better like this. You can't run away. Time is not over yet."

I still wasn't able to speak or to fight back.

She took my head with one hand, and propped it up a bit, opened my mouth with the other hand, and placed a pain pill on my tongue. Then she held the cup with water to my lips, so I could wash the pill down. Without another word, and this time without a smile, she left the hut, and I was alone again.

*

I don't know how much time I spent like this, neither awake nor asleep. My hands were tied, so I could not smoke marijuana, but at least the pain pill worked somewhat. And the near darkness in the room made its effects stronger. I was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling across which the spider crawled slowly, or looked at the door, which the wind sometimes opened a bit, so I could recognize the outlines of mountains. Along with the drugs from the soup the pill lost its effects soon enough though, and my whole body started hurting horribly.

The thought popped into my mind that they could keep me like this forever, to amuse the village's youth, or that they could kill me when they had enough of me. No one knew I was here, no one would look for me here. Strangely I didn't care at all. I just hoped I could fall asleep soon. But it seemed I was lying awake for hours, days, or even weeks.

Finally the girl showed up at my side again. She opened the ties at my hands, and with her usual distant smile she handed me a bowl of soup.

"Better if you eat it, easier for you."

Without protest I took the soup from her and started to eat. But after a few spoonful I interrupted my meal. Because I had sat up, through this small movement, my head had become clearer and questions formed in it. "Why are you doing that?"

Again she smiled, a tired smile this time. "Is important for my people. We have to protect us. You have to protect us."

"Protect? How? Of whom?"

She thought for a while. No smile anymore. "Yes," she finally said. "You have right to know. Father of mountains." With an undefined gesture she pointed at the door, outside. Then she continued. "Long time ago Father of Mountains often visited my people. Father of Mountains is important spirit. Has made mountain here, owner of mountain. Without Father of Mountains, no peace, in mountains. If people good with mountain, mountain good with people." She sighed. "But Father of Mountains keeps distance with people, almost always. Only one time not. One time, a beautiful girl in village. The most beautiful girl of the world, with eyes like the sky and hair like the fire of the sun. So beautiful that Father of Mountains falls in love. But girl was in love with boy from village. Simple boy working in the fields and guarding the llamas, she preferred him. So Father of Mountains let boy fall down a rock. But girl still did not want. Father of Mountains was very angry. Took revenge on people. Nobody was safe anymore. Most killed handsome young men and beautiful young women, virgins. But others too. My people were very afraid. Nobody knew what to do."

I took a few more spoonfuls of soup, and stared at her, waiting for her to continue. What did all this have to do with me?

"But a prophecy. Wise woman said that Father of Mountains needs sacrifice, once in one hundred years. A girl like her, that he lost, that girl he needs, she has said. Girl with hair like from fire and eyes like from sky. Thirteen times with help of man of the village, and then for himself. But all women here have black hair and black eyes. People continued in fear."

Some hair was falling over my face; it was close to dipping into the soup. I wanted to secure it behind my ear, but something kept me from it. I held it in my hand already, but didn't move the hand; instead I looked at my hair, full of thought. I hadn't washed it in a long time. Long ago it had lost its normal silky smoothness. But it was still quite obviously bright red.

"Then came people from your continent," the girl continued. "All were scared of them, just my people saw one thing only - people were light skinned and light eyed and some had hair like from fire and eyes like from sky, and sometimes there were women, too. Now we knew that prophecy was good. A strange woman kidnapped with right colors, and Father of Mountains had her thirteen times with the body of a man of the village. And then he got her for himself. After that one hundred years of peace. Only once in one hundred years we need to do the ritual."

Now she smiled again, and looked at me. "When my father saw you in market, one hundred years were almost over. That is why we can't let you go. Is important for my people."

Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the fever, the meaning of her words barely reached my mind. I was glad to know why I was here, and I continued eating my soup, hoping that afterwards I could finally sleep again. I almost didn't care what would happen to me. Still, almost without me wanting to, my mouth formed a question.

"And - when the... the Father of the Mountains is coming to have me, what will happen to me afterwards? Will I die, or will I be allowed to leave?"

Her smile was as absentminded as ever. "Don't know. Last ritual is one hundred years ago. Today no person alive that can remember, and legends don't tell what happens afterwards."

I took some spoons of soup, and then I sank back into my bed. I was already somewhat dizzy, but also I felt nicely warm. I could still see the door open, and the two men enter again, leading another young man between them, a bit taller than the one last time, but again fighting strongly against them and making hissing sounds like an animal. I did not feel anymore how he pulled the blankets off me, and jumped on me. I had fallen into deep sleep.

*

The father of the Mountains came late at night. I don't know how much time had past since my last conversation with the girl, nor do I know how often she had brought me soup since then.

I was asleep and as always I saw also in this night my boyfriend standing on a hill. I had gotten almost used to how we ran towards each other, stretching out our hands without managing to touch each other. My wish to reach him however was stronger each time. During the last nights (or days, since my sleep was not connected to any fixed schedule) I had woken up feeling he was still there, that I wasn't alone. Once I had clearly heard him breathing but when I turned around he was not there. Maybe something would happen if we managed to touch each other? With yet a greater effort I ran towards him, and all of a sudden our faces were not more than half a meter from each other. This time his hand approached my face, as if he wanted to caress my cheek and his lips appeared as if he planned to kiss me. I closed my eyes in expectancy of his kiss, but I opened them again when I felt a cold emerging from him. I stared into his face and suddenly realized that his eyes were empty, unmoving - those weren't his eyes. I panicked when I saw his mouth getting closer and closer, his face, his hand almost at my cheek. Suddenly I wanted to run away, didn't want him to touch me, to kiss me. But I couldn't move. I felt his breath already.