The Mountain

Here's something I haven't done for a while - written a short story.  Forgive me if this one makes no sense, which it might not.  If if it doesn't, I'm sure I can say that I was tired when I wrote it, and blame it on that.  Yeah.  I'm sure it can use some more work, but I decided to post it anyway. :)  It's 2775 words.

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The Mountain  

I have a good life.  It’s nothing extraordinary, but nothing terrible.  It is at it should be, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I have a small house on the prairie, at the crest of a small and barely noticeable hill.  The field is heavily populated with crops of a wide sort that I have planted myself, for that is what I do.  Other than crops, there are groupings of trees and grass that comes up to my waist.
The house I call home is simple and sufficient, unadorned with relics, as are the homesteads of those living in the nearby cities.  It is small but more than enough, for I am just one man, a simple man with simple tastes.  Much of my time is spent in the fields, as this is how I put food on my table and earn money enough to keep what I have.  The work is not overly strenuous.  The land is fertile and the harvests are always plentiful, and I never lack.
It has been a normal, quaint existence for many years, with no great disruptions, just as a like it.  Today is no different.  I awake early and ready myself for the day, for there is much work to be done in the fields.  My cupboards are nearly empty, and the crops are awaiting my scythe.  Each morning, I walk out of my house and look upon the sunrise, as it signals the beginning of a new day.  I proudly survey my land and the work I’ve done, yet this day, as I opened my door, I could not see my land.  I saw only dirt.
A great mound had sprouted up overnight, it seems.  I follow it around, seeing that it completely encircles my house.  I stare at it for some time, not knowing where it had come from, or who had decided to pile it up around my home.  Not knowing what to think, I climb and stand upon it, looking down upon the prairie.  There, some distance from the house, was something else new.  A trench now also encircled the house and farmland, and I know it to be the source of the dirt that is now piled up beneath me, yet it is still unknown who had done this, or why they would desire to do such a thing.  It is really quite bizarre, and rather infuriating.
However, I have no time for such rage.  I want to remove the dirt, returning it to the trench, yet I have no time for such things, as there is much to do.  Errands to run, crops to harvest, and other responsibilities to consider, so the task of the dirt is pushed to another day.
The next day comes, and the dirt mound has grown even more, now standing at a height above the roof of his house.  I now let my anger overpower my calm, cursing the men who have done this.  I shake my fist at the cities in the distance, knowing it to be them who have done this to me.  The lord of the greatest of the cities has often sent out notices to the residents of the land, suggesting they abandon their homes and come live within his city.  Yet why would I leave my house, and the life I love and enjoy?  I have not asked for his help, nor do I desire it.
The trench has also grown wider and deeper.  However, I’m still unable to find the time to remove the dirt, for I can not forsake my other duties.  While my work may be easy, it is time consuming and can not be overlooked.
Day after day, the dirt piles up higher and wider.  One morning, after climbing over the mound and walking to the trench, I look to see that it is now not merely a circle, for a new trench has been dug as a great river, from the trench to the nearby sea, and now the trench is full of water.  At last, I must choose to neglect my other duties, and I cut down a tree of the prairie and construct a bridge over the trench.  By the time I finish, the sun has set, and I return to my house for the evening, and my mood is as dark as the night.
The next morning, I climb over the ever-growing mound and look down upon the trench, and the bridge is no longer in place, but is instead floating in the trench, disconnected from its edges, for the trench has grown wider in the night.  I again curse the cities and the cruelty of the men.  I curse the lord of the great city and his offers for help, for surely they see me now, and yet their assistance is nowhere to be seen.  Perhaps it was even the king’s men who piled the dirt around my home.  I wouldn’t doubt it, those traitorous devils.
I then look into the water and see things there I have never before believed in, for great scales were sliding over the surface.  Large creatures were swimming within the trench, lifting their horned heads from the water, and peering up at me with hungered eyes.  I step back in fear, and for the first time I feel something I have never felt upon the prairie.  I feel trapped.
The dirt has grown wider still, and there is now no room between the edge of the mound and the house.  I realize the truth of things, for at the current rate, the house will soon be swallowed whole.  I chop down another tree and build on a new level to the house.  I finished the work and return inside for the night, wanting to forget what I had seen, hoping to wake up in the morning and find it was all a dream.
If only I could be so lucky.  I wake to find the first level of the house has been lost to the dirt, so I crawl out of the window of the newly-built second level, chop down another tree, and build on another level.  This continues, as every few days, the mount grows enough to engulf the highest level, and I add another above it.  For many days, I call out curses to the city and the lord there, blaming them for the hardships that I am enduring, yet I soon come to no longer question it.  It has simply become part of my life.
One day, as I am building the next level, I hear voices on the wind, and there on the other side of the trench are several people yelling up at me.  Mockers, I know it, for they are likely the same people doing this to me.  I hate them for it, hoping the great creatures of the trench would leap out and swallow them whole.
Then one morning comes that is unlike the others, for I look out a high window to see only dirt.  I push through the dirt with a shovel, and soon I see sunlight.  I reach out my neck to look down the side of the hill, too far, and I fall from the window and roll down the mound, twisting and turning as I go.  I eventually stop and lay there for a moment, feeling pain around the whole of my body.  It did not seem to be new, but a pain that had been there for some time, yet I have never noticed it before.  In time, I stand and brush the sand off my clothes.  I look up to see that the mound has become a mountain, and it completely covers the house, and no trace of it remains, other than the hole I had dug myself.
Behind me comes a growl, deep and terrifying, and I turn to see a great lizard, scaled in green and horned from head to tail.  It charges at me and I fall backward with fear, landing on my shovel.  I pick it up and swing it at the oncoming creature, striking it across its fanged jaw, and the creature steps back and groans.  I then drop the shovel and turn, quickly climbing up the mountain, leaping to reach and pull myself into the window of the house.  I turn and look down upon the field, and there I see not just the one creature, but many, dozens upon dozens of them, stepping out from behind trees and scampering toward the house, though they appear unable to crawl up the steep mound.
I sigh, thankful for the safety of my home.  Yet from behind comes a hiss, and I turn to see a brood of snakes upon the floor, slithering toward me.  One comes close and I crush its head beneath my boot, and several others come forward.  I reach to the side and grab my hatchet, yet I know I can not kill them all before one sinks its fangs into my skin, releasing its venom.  I turn to the window and dive out it, being careful not to roll as far down the hill.  The beasts see me and charge, yet I somehow work my way up the mound and out of their reach.  I stand at the peak of the hill, surveying all that is around me, for it is no longer the plain that I had known for so long.  Instead, it is now a barren wasteland.  The crops and trees all about the land are withering and dying.  Was it not so recently that this land was full of life?  Yet I can barely remember it, for it seems so long ago that I was a simple farmer with an enviable life.  Scores of great lizards cover the land, crushing the fruits of my labor beneath their large feet.  There, near the trench, is the greatest of them, a massive, winged beast.  All around it are other such creatures, though smaller.  At once, the smaller ones lift from the ground and fly toward the mountain.
I close my eyes and cry, for I know the end is coming swiftly.  I can no longer evade the creatures.  They will reach me and sink their fangs into my skin, and then I will be no more.  I can do nothing now but howl in pain, wondering what I may have done to deserve such a fate, but there is no time for questions.  There is only time for death.  The greatest of the beast then cries out in an angry roar, and all the other beasts, winged and otherwise, turn and rush toward him.  There, on the inner edge of the trench, is a warrior, dressed in great armor.  Behind him, the bodies of several beasts of the sea float belly-up in the trench.
The warrior rushes toward the mound, swinging his great silver sword from side to side, slaying all beasts that came close.  Soon, the warrior reaches the mountain, leaving a trail of dead creatures behind him.  He scales the mound with ease, then looks down upon me with pity in his eyes.
“Come, follow me,” the warrior says, his voice bold, “for I will lead you to safety.”
I don’t move.  Doubt fills my mind, for who could this man be, and how can he save me from such beasts?  He is a fool, I believe, and yet there is something more about him.  He has made it this far, at least, through the trench and the fields.  I look down to the fields and the see the winged beasts coming closer, and I know my death is at hand, and despite my longing to stay upon the mountain, I stand and follow the warrior down the hill, stumbling as I go.  The warrior’s sword flashes before him, and creatures fall quickly, as though they are no match for his blade, even with greater numbers.  Soon we are at the trench.  I stare into the waters, and the eyes of great creatures of the sea stare back, and my body freezes. 
“Jump in and swim with me, and I will protect you,” the warrior says, and the head of a great beast comes out of the water and stares up at us.  “I can protect you, yet I cannot force you to follow.  You must choose to dive in yourself.”
I turn to see more beasts approaching, and then the greatest of the beasts lands before me, quaking the ground beneath my feet.  It snarls and then breathes a great breath of flame toward me, and instinctively I turn and jump into the water, with the warrior splashing in beside me.  I open my eyes beneath the surface of the water and look upon great beasts swimming toward us, yet the warrior reaches out his blade within the waters and slays them.  Who is this man, with such power, I wonder as I swim frantically across the trench.  I reach the other side and climb out, only to see the great beast reach his long neck into the water and grab the warrior, pulling him back to the inside of the trench, hurling him into the field.  The beast rears back and breathes a great fire over the prairie, and soon the crops and the warrior are charred.  My heart drops in my chest, knowing this man has sacrificed his life to save mine.  I long to jump back in the water and swim toward the great beast, allowing him to serve me the same fate, for why do I deserve to still live?
The beast then looks at me, and starts to breath a great fire toward me, but I am pulled from behind, and the flames shoot past me.  A group of people yell at me to follow.  I look back at the corpse of the warrior, still smoking from the fire, and the tears pour down my face.  Despite my desire at that moment to die, I follow the group into a small town.
A couple days pass, yet the pain is still to fresh.  I am allowed to stay at an inn in town, and I do not want to come out and face the light.  I soon come to realize, however, that the warrior would not want me to feel such things.  He has given his life for mine, and to throw it away is to be insulting to his sacrifice.  So I stand and walk out of the room, and the light hits me hard.  My eyes adjust, and then I see something more surprising, so surprising that I run at it, for the warrior is walking toward the gate.  A voice from the side stops me in my tracks.
“What happened to you has happened to all of us,” a woman said sternly.  She stood there peacefully.  “It’s happening to everyone else out there as well,” she continued, nodding towards the warrior as he disappeared through the gate.  “There are always more to save.”
I don’t know what to think in response.  “How do you know what happened to me?” I ask.  “I haven’t talked to anyone here.”
“Do you think that dirt piled up on its own?” she says, approaching me.  “No, my good man, it was you who made the mountain, whether in your sleep or without a memory.  For we, here, watched as you built up your mountain during the night, then built up your house during the day.  At first it was just you, but then there were others that joined you, evil men of the prairie.   It would not be long before you could no longer keep up with the mountain, and it would overtake you.  There are great terrors of the world that do not show their face unless they think the moment is opportune.  The creatures flocked to you once they saw your vulnerability.  And, before you ask, it is not fully known to us how the Lord of this city does what he does, for he is not bound to flesh and blood like we are.  He is what he is, and it is because of that truth that we are now what we are.  Those that choose to follow him can live safely with him here.  Those that reject him are lost to the darkness that threatened to overtake you.  Yet he does not do this work alone, for those he saves, those who are truly grateful, give of themselves in return.”
I smile.  “I am grateful.”
The woman nods.  “Come now, the Lord of this city has work to be done.”