Letters from Montana
By Sam Chiverton
Image courtesy of Pexels.
9th August 1769
Jane
Dillion Street 19
Dear Jane,
I am writing to let you know that I have just left for Montana to find out more about the cause for unusual temperatures in the area. I am already starting to miss you and the children. But you understood when I married you that I would suddenly leave home every now and then because of my job, a scientist, one that predicts the weather. Anyway, I won’t be long, I expect that it will be under a week before I get back.
Keep yourself and the children safe.
Love,
Benjamin.
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10th August
Dear Diary,
The weather in Montana is underwhelming, it’s humid yet cold. I have just arrived at the cabin I was staying in for the next few days. It’s located around the forest edge. From the outside, I would mistake it for a shack or a farm. On the inside, the building gave the feeling of a dormitory with two beds on either side of the room. Above the only door of the room was a grizzly’s head with its mouth wide open. The walls were made of dark logs stacked on top of each other.
The person who I’m sharing the room with, introduced himself as Frederick, he says he’s here on a hiking vacation. He has long black hair and looks native. Montana has an ominous atmosphere.
Benjamin
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11th August
Dear Diary,
Today I was taking sample temperatures around the place. At first the weather was heavenly, blue covered the sky and the grey clouds were nowhere to be seen. Suddenly the sky started to drip, then rain started to come down.
In the distance I saw a bright light coming from the sky, it was just above Mount Stone which is where I will be going in a few days. About a few seconds afterwards I heard a deafening, sharp “bang”. Hopefully I can get to the bottom of this.
Benjamin.
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12th August
Dear Diary,
I was wandering about inside the local tourist caves, minding my own business. I saw a “BEWARE” sign, I assumed it was trying to warn you about cave-ins. Then I had a lucid vision of the man in the cabin, who calls himself Frederick. He was petrified, his body fading to dust. Just before his face faded, he gave me a look with only one purpose, warning.
Now I’m in bed trying to erase the memory. I can’t shut my eyes.
Benjamin.
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13th August
Dear Diary,
I still haven’t gotten over the vision from yesterday. Was it a dream? I'm sure it wasn’t. I’m not insane.
Today I hope to climb Mount Stone to see if I can find the bright light that I saw the other day. Frederick, if that is his name, has offered to climb with me. I want to say no, and God knows why I said yes.
We start climbing at 10am.
Benjamin.
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The Montana Bugle Your Local Newspaper 13/8/69
IMMINENT AVALANCHE
We have received intelligence from the Mountain Rangers that a wet avalanche could be imminent on Mount Stone. Wet avalanches are caused by hot atmospheres and can make snow heavy. Fortunately, there have been no reported tourists in the area.
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13th August
He saved my life. I was not aware of the large cloud of white dust above us, he had grabbed me and pulled me into an ice cave. Looks like we are going to be in here for a while.
My head is throbbing and it’s getting cold. I start walking around, there seems to be a tunnel through the back, large enough for two grown men to walk through. I explore.
The reflection off the ice creates colourless twins of myself. The echo of my spiked shoes is isolating.
I start to see light on the other side.The light has a warm orange glow to it.
I continue to walk.
I enter what seems to be an opening. The walls are made of pure stone, carved using chisels. Cave paintings cover them. In the middle of the room is a skeleton. There's a stone grave just beside it. The light provides a dimmed atmosphere. I read the engraved name on the grave.
“Fredrick Dawson. From 1728 - 1769 August 13th”.
I hear a loud “BANG”, identical to the one I heard earlier. My head starts spinning. My mind starts swimming.
I turn around.