The Curse of Dark Mountain Part 3

I ran along the old cobbled path towards the mine. The figure had disappeared as if it was just my mind playing tricks on me. The blanket of evening loomed as I sighed at the disappearance of the man before approaching the entrance of the mine. The entrance had been left wide open to greet me with its open arms as if someone had rushed into the mine not to even bother closing the doors. Whoever that was must have gone in there.

Before entering I lit the lantern that I had found in the church. I could see just enough so I didn’t stumble over my own footing as I edged closer to the heart of the tomb which had once held a great many riches for those who came before me.

The sound of water drops echoed down the surface of the cold and damp walls as I reached the ancient wooden elevator that lead deeper into the bowels of this cursed mountain, it had been lowered all the way down. There was a door near it which read “Office”, I tried to open it, twisting the handle a few times to no result. I took the key which I had found earlier in my father’s office and lined it up against the wall, it was a perfect fit.

Once the room was illuminated with the dim yellow flame of the lantern, I noticed another desk where piles of rotten paperwork, a ledger and a small journal rested neatly upon it’s surface. A silver-plated pick-axe rested in place on a plaque behind the desk. I picked the journal up reading the name on the front. It belonged to an Oliver Harrison, if my memory serves me right that was the name of my great grandfather. Curious to know more I opened it and read.

He had taken over the mine after his father had mysteriously died whilst conducting a survey of the lower levels. He had spent many day’s lamenting over the demise of his father before taking the mantle of running the mine. This was around the time when the output of the mine had begun to deteriorate to the point where many miners had left on their own accord to find better work elsewhere. He had received reports that described strange noises and shadowy figures roaming the deep caverns below. Annoyed by these reports he ventured down, only to return a few day’s later with no recollection of what had transpired, he only brought one thing out with him and that was a large nugget of silver which had been scraped against a rock to hold a sharp edge. After this point the words in the journal became unintelligible.

From what I could discern from the journal my great grandfather had created a weapon from silver, he must have discovered a weakness to the evil that lurked deep within. I turned around and grabbed the silver-plated pick-axe which held the initials “O.H. 999Ag” engraved upon the wooden handle. He must have made this to fight the shadow people, if there was any chance of me getting out of this alive it would be with this pick-axe.

With the generator out of order and no fuel to even get it started there would be no way I could pull the elevator back up. I doubted it would have even held my weight without snapping after all these years. Opposite the office door I noticed a path that the miners would have used before it’s installation.

At the bottom I found the remains of the lift, broken pieces and shards of wood littered the floor like a shattered pane of glass. Large amounts of water seeping into the mine had caused it to flood the lower levels, red rusty water reached all the way up to my ankles. My socks were soaked and my feet were saturated to the bone as I kicked my way through the grimy water.

I froze like a statue as I heard the splashing of footsteps in the distance. I aimed the light of the lantern ahead only for the hairs on the back of my neck to become erect and a strange feeling of uneasiness to tingle throughout my whole body. The shadowy figure of a man stopped in it’s tracks and turned to face me. What in the hell is this?

Upon examining me for a moment it lunged towards me with that opaque dark body of its, I managed to raise the pick-axe in front of me enough to stop it in it’s tracks. It just stared at me with it’s featureless face obviously frightened to go anywhere near the silver.

I wasn’t going to wait any longer just staring at it, I raised the pick-axe once more and with all my might I pushed the sharp end of it towards the face of the angry spirit. It’s body dissipated into the surrounding air. Feeling a lot safer now that it had been dealt with, I moved forward.

Up ahead I noticed movement, so I slowed down and hid behind a mining crate. From what I could tell it was the man from before who was carrying the body of that woman. It was too foggy for me to notice if it was Ellie or not but regardless of finding my daughter there was someone that needed my help. The figure stopped what it was doing before turning around to stare in my general vicinity. It must have sensed me somehow. I removed myself from cover to confront this maniac, once in the light of the lantern I noticed the black eye patch around it’s eye. It was the caretaker but his dark blue skin and gleaming yellow eye made me rethink this whole situation. The caretaker had been dead for decades, there was absolutely no way he could have survived that long here all alone. It could be an evil spirit that has taken control of his deceased body.

The caretaker raised his pick-axe and let out a deep demented growl almost making me wet my pants as I readied my silver weapon to defend myself.

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