Big Sky Community Library, BASE team up for Spooky Story Contest

EBS STAFF

Over the Halloween season, the Big Sky Community Library and BASE community center hosted a first-of-its-kind spooky story contest, a tradition they hope continues. The judge panel was made up of patrons of the Big Sky Community Library, including Cyndee Button, Leslie Kilgore, Trish Loomis and Erica Oglevie. Together, they settled on a first place winner, Duke Woodman, for his story The True Story of the Living Cloud, which we’ve been given permission to share. Enjoy this spooky piece of locally produced literature!

The True Story of the Living Cloud

By Duke Woodman

“So, you know Crazy John who lives up the road in that ancient house?” Sam whispered, his bright blue eyes glinting under the light of the little lamp beside him. The shadows in the cabin warped and twisted.
“Yeah, the one who’s always mumbling to himself about some kinda living cloud or something?” Billy asked with a smile and a little laugh. 

“Oh, that guy?! He belongs in a mental health home,” Dylan said, unwrapping a Hershey’s bar. “Yeah. Well, you know his story?”
“His story? What do you mean?” Billy’s smile flickering a little.
“Yeah, I mean I generally try to give about twenty feet of space, so I haven’t really, you know, talked to him or anything,” Dylan stuffed the wrapper in his pocket. 

“Oh, me neither,” Sam said hurriedly, “you think I’ve actually talked him? No, no, no. I went to the library and found this old paper, an interview of John when he was in high school. The story of the ‘living cloud’.” He made air quotes.
“Jeez, you saying he was crazy when he was still in high school?” Dylan said raising an eyebrow, which disappeared into his curly hair. 

“Maybe, but I think it’s a true story, I’ll tell it to you right now if you want. It happened in this very shack, it’s what made it famous.” Sam said, his face showing no sign of a joke.
“Okay, let’s hear the ‘true story of the living cloud’.” Billy said, mirroring Sam’s air quotes. The skepticism was thick in his voice. 

The smooth water reflected the full moon as if it were a perfect recreation, and there was not a breath of wind to disturb it. Then, hundreds of crows launched from the trees and flew across the lake, screaming their shrill, otherworldly scream and carrying the smell of the dead. They soared high into the air, far above the forest, and left everything eerily quiet. Then, there was fog. It came crawling, cautiously at first, down the hillside. Then, it grew curious and was snaking through the trees, and then gliding along the surface of the lake, coming ever nearer. It silently scoured, hills and valleys, cracks and crevices; nothing was able to hold back the fog. Finally, it grew confident and engulfed everything, growing and growing until there was nothing, only the fog. 

John had been watching out the window as everybody slowly fell asleep and was alarmed by the speed and seemingly animalistic movements of the fog. It had come out of nowhere. One second, all was still and the lake was smooth, next all those crows had burst out of the forest, shrieking. And then, that fog. It had just come over that hill, and then, in a blink, it was pressed right up against the window. It wasn’t normal. He couldn’t even see the ground right outside. John, Tom, Freddy, Martha and Carla had come to the cabin on this Friday night because they had heard rumors that it was the site of some supernatural deaths or something way long ago and wanted to check it out. Not that they actually believed in that supernatural stuff. It had apparently once been a hunting cabin, but now it was neglected and stood slowly rotting in the forest. It had seemed pretty empty and boring until Tom had found an old rifle under a broken floorboard and bullets scattered all around it. Now, they were still there and the rifle lay leaning against the wall. He looked at it then back out the window. Suddenly, a crow hurtled out of the fog and crashed straight into the glass. John jumped back, startled, and everybody who had been sleeping sat up at the sound. Dead. It slid down, smearing blood on the glass until it went out of sight, disappearing back into the fog.
“What was that?” Tom yelled.
“And what’s with that fog?” Martha asked, eyeing it warily. 

And so, John told them, Tom, Martha, Freddy and Carla, and they all hesitantly agreed that the fog wasn’t normal. It seemed to be pushing in on the house, as if trying to get in.
“Well, what’re gonna do?” Carla asked looking around at all of them, her bushy brown hair bouncing back and forth. 

“It’s probably just normal fog, guys. Why do we have to do anything? You’re just paranoid,” Freddy said. He was right. They had all seen too many movies and were inclined to inventing problems.
“What about that bird though?” Tom asked, his face was very pale under the freckles. 

“Birds fly into windows all the time!” Freddy replied.
“Yeah, Freddy’s right, we’ve all seen fog on the lake; this isn’t any different.” John said, in an attempt to calm himself more than anyone else.
“But this is different, you said it yourself!” Martha said. “The way it moved down the hill and across the water. The thickness of it.”
“It’s fine, and even if it wasn’t, we’re in a cabin, and last time I checked fog doesn’t have hands.”

This made sense to everybody, and they laughed at their anxiety in an attempt to convince themselves that everything was normal. It didn’t really work for John, though. He took his post by the window again, although with a little more unease. After a while, he got up again and loaded the gun, moving it closer to his seat; he didn’t know why, but he had this feeling that something was happening, and he wanted to be prepared. But he was just being paranoid. He looked back out the window. The fog seemed to swirl around the cabin, retreating only to charge forward and trap you again; it was playing them.

John finally dozed off against the glass after what felt like years of watching the outside. When he woke everything looked the same, and he wondered whether he’d even fell asleep at all. The fog was still crushing against the walls and the wood creaked, seemingly against the weight. The skin of his head that been on the window felt cold and disconnected, almost dead. He turned to face the inside of the cabin and saw that everybody else was awake and staring out of the windows blankly.

“Hey, guys,” John said tiredly as he sat down on the space of floor beside Tom. He was answered with indistinguishable mutters. “Worried about the fog still?” He asked and was once again answered with vague murmurs. “Guys, somebody’s got to get the car. We got to get outta here.” This seemed to snap everybody out of the daze, and they all turned to look at him.
“Yeah, your right. I’ll go,” Freddy volunteered.
“What about the fog?” Carla asked, her brow creased with worry.
“It’s normal fog. I’m not worried about it.” His fierce green eyes sweeping the room, daring somebody to challenge him. When nobody did, he walked to the door in a few long strides, yanked it open and was sucked into the fog. It was weird. He didn’t just walk into it and slowly fade away, he walked into it and was gone. There was a tall figure with bright red hair, and then he was just not there anymore. They all looked at each other, worried. The fog suddenly started to slither toward the open door, and they quickly slammed it closed.

“This is not right,” Carla said immediately. 

“I agree, we have to get out of here as quickly as possible,” Martha mirrored Carla’s worried expression.
“Freddy just left; when he gets back, we’ll leave,” John said, Tom nodding his agreement.
“I know. I’m talking about Freddy going out in that.” 

“Carla…”
Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door. They all turned to look then back at one another. “It’s gotta be Freddy, but why’s he back so soon?” Tom said, making his way to the door. Something in the back of John’s mind was whispering a warning, that it was a mistake, but it was only a whisper. Tom pulled on the door, and it swung in, revealing Freddy, though something was not right. He stood there in the doorway, his hands in fists and his eyes bloodshot, shaking uncontrollably. He seemed to be writhing in a standing position and in great pain.
“Freddy? You good man?” Tom asked, looking at him with bewilderment.
Freddy seemed to clear, his body relaxed and his hands opened, and then he launched himself at Tom, catching him in the stomach and tackling him to the floor. 

“No way can this be true!” Billy shouted, his voice was a little higher than usual.
“It is true! It happened in this cabin!” Sam seemed exasperated, and he ran his fingers through his short hair in frustration.
“I dunno, Sam; I’m with Billy on this one—”
“Oh my god, Dylan! You haven’t even been listening to the story! You just keep eating those chocolate bars!” Sam shot back, gesturing to Dylan’s hand, which was halfway to his mouth with a Mars Bar. An empty wrapper crinkled as he stuffed it into his pocket; now bulging with all the plastic.
“Just sayin’,” Dylan mumbled, his hands up in surrender.
“Whatever. Can I just continue?”
“Yeah, carry on.” Billy said, crossing his big arms across his chest and trying to sound as if he was bored by the story.
Dylan, unable to talk due to a mouthful of chocolate, just gave a thumbs up and leaned back on his chair. Coils of broken ropes swung limply over the sides. 

“Tom!” Martha screamed, rushing forward.
“Stay back!” John yelled. “Carla, go get the rope!”
Freddy was on top of Tom now, punching him over and over.
“Where?!”
“In the closet!”

Carla dashed to the closet, threw the door open with so much force it cracked the rotting wood, and grabbed the rope. John then kicked Freddy hard in the temple, and he toppled over sideways, unconscious. As Martha knelt beside Tom, Carla and John carried Freddy into the chair in the corner and bound him tightly in the rope. It felt like John had been waiting for something like this to happen ever since that fog had rolled in.

“What was that?!” Martha asked. She was near tears. Tom gave a groan and tried to sit up. 

“It’s the fog. Has to be,” John said, looking at Tom’s bleeding face as Martha grabbed his elbow and pulled him into a sitting position.
“This is not okay! Look at what Freddy did!” She said gesturing to Tom, who’s now enormous bloody lips would look comical if it was a less serious situation. 

“That wasn’t Freddy.” Carla said, looking in to everybody’s eyes fiercely.
“She’s right,” John said, “Freddy would never do something like that. It has to be the fog.”
“But what is the fog. If its not fog, what is it?” Martha said, she was having trouble wrapping her head around it.
“It’s got to be some government thing. They were trying to make a weapon and something went wrong. Maybe its gas.” Carla said.
John looked over at Freddy, who was still slumped unconscious. “Know of any government buildings around here that were testing weapons?” John said. Something was telling him that this fog had nothing to do with the government.
“No, but you got a better idea? For all we know this didn’t just happen here but the whole world!”
John hadn’t thought of that. He had been so absorbed in their own situation, he hadn’t even thought about what might have happened to his family, or anybody else. He was interrupted by Freddy who was now awake and struggling against the ropes.
“Guys? What’s going on I thought we were getting out of here once I got the car?” He asked, and his eyes darted between them, searching. “Guys? Why am I tied up?” His face now looked scared and helpless. Martha stared at the opposite wall unable to look.
“Freddy, you came back right after you left and Tom opened the door and then you…you attacked him.” John said eyeing Freddy warily.
“What? No I didn’t, I would never…you know I wouldn’t…” He trailed off.
“We know it wasn’t you! It was the fog. It possessed you!” Carla cried rushing forward to hug Freddy. John glanced at the gun.
“Yes, we know it wasn’t you, that it was the fog, but your still unsafe.” John said, looking at Tom who gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“No! He’s fine now! We can let him free!” Carla was on the verge of tears now.
“Carla.”
“Please! Just give him a try!”
John looked at his feet for a long time and grew uncomfortably aware of everybody’s eyes on his back. He looked up and his blue eyes met Freddy’s green.
“Fine.” He said stepping closer to the gun. 

“Seriously?! The fog?” Billy smirked.
“Yes Billy! The fog, get over it! We all know you’re scared, now stop hiding it!” Sam yelled, his annoyance finally getting the better of him.
Billy shot off the floor and jabbed a finger at Sam, who stood his ground despite the fact that Billy was much larger than he was.
“I am not scared!” He shouted back, his face building in color.
“Yes you are.” Sam said, willing himself to not back down.
Billy lunged towards Sam, but slipped and fell to the ground, landing hard on his stomach. An empty bullet casing rolled beside him. 

“Karma dude,” said Dylan, who had been watching quietly, but with much amusement. “Shut up.” Billy said, getting back into a sitting position. 

Carla thanked John and rushed to untie the ropes. Freddy sat there breathing deeply, even when the ropes had fallen off him and were dangling over the side.
“I’m so sorry, Tom, you know I—” Freddy stopped. His hands tightened on the sides of the chair and he looked up slowly with bloodshot eyes. 

“Freddy!” Carla yelled, and he sprang from the chair and grabbed the front of her shirt as he made for the door. He swung it open, and they both disappeared into the fog. Martha screamed. John wasn’t comprehending what had just happened, but he found Tom fumbling with the gun in his hand, trying to get it free. He numbly let go and Tom hurriedly cocked it, standing the gaping door. 

“Oh my god,” Martha said, pressing her hands on both sides of her head as if to shut everything else out.
“The fog…” John said feebly.
Tom took no notice. He stood there aiming at something John couldn’t see and then fired. The shot rang out into the fog and then was answered by a scream. It was impossible to tell whose. He stepped back inside and slammed the door shut. It cut off a tentacle of the fog inside the cabin but it slithered back under the gap, back outside. 

“How did you…?” John began.
“I’m not sure I hit anyone. That could have been Carla being possessed.” He said quietly, though his speech came out mumbled because of his lips. They were all looking out the window, and the realization that they might never survive this, that the fog might keep picking them off one by one, was dawning on them. 

“Dude, when is this going to end?!” Billy shouted.
“Be quiet it’s almost over—” Sam was interrupted by something big and black flying straight into the window. It shook the glass on impact and then its broken body slid down slowly, leaving a smeared patch of blood. They all leapt up and ran to peer out the dirty window, where the crumpled body of a crow lay motionless on the dirt.
“Jeez,” Dylan muttered looking at the body with revulsion.
“Its just a bird guys,” Billy said.
“C’mon guys, I’ll tell you the last bit.” 

As they looked out at the fog though, it seemed to recede a little bit, just slowly crawling backwards, as if it was done. But they all knew better, seeing the way it had possessed Freddy. How it had loosened its grip so they would be tricked into thinking he was normal again, only to then take control again and drag Carla off. It knows how to play with human emotions, how to make them feel safe, like they’re in command of they’re life again, but really its the one in charge. But sure enough the fog was scurrying away from the cabin, and soon they could see the trees again, and when they looked up, they saw a bright, sunny sky. They dared not go outside yet, but once they could see the hillside from which it had once came, they knew it was over. They were safe. 

“That’s the end of your story? Wow, exciting.” Billy said sarcastically, his mouth twisted in a sneer.
“What was wrong with that?! Oh, let me guess, you wanted everyone to die! It doesn’t—” “Guys, look.” The terrified tone in Dylan’s voice made them look around. They followed his gaze out the window at a hillside on the other side of the lake, where there was an impenetrably thick, white fog creeping through the trees.