Writing competition "136" based on my digital image. Now you are the author of "The mysterious mountain"

Ever since I was a kid, I was told tales of the mountain Sulu, a few cliqs from my village. We were cautioned occasionally never to wander around or go near except during harvest. Even then we could only go as far as the Watchers allowed us.

The Watchers are the ones who were chosen to patrol the mountain and caution trespassers. They also bring tributes from the village proceeds to the foot of the mountain. The family of the Watchers was hand-picked by the village hundreds of years ago to perform this duty and ever since, the duty has been passed down from one generation to another by drawing lots.

The tradition seemed fair to the village as each family was only expected to bring a little fraction of their proceeds. My curious mind however pondered this for years. Why weren’t we allowed to visit the mountain? Are we less human than the Watchers?
It seemed then that my thoughts and questions were getting much so I decided to climb the barricade and approach the mountain when I came of age, harvest time or not, regardless the consequence.

I bid my time and though the process was lengthy and time crept, I was true to myself and little specs of hair covered my upper lips and jaw. I earned the villages’ trust by being outstanding amongst my peers and as a result, I was invited by the rulers and heads of families to join their meeting. There I saw on e of the Watchers and was curious as to what he was doing there but the thrill of honor soon waved the thought. There in the meeting, they shared some info as to where to mine some minerals for export and a concensus was taken as to how many volunteers will go. Myself being the youngest, I immediately volunteered.

The next day on our way to the site, the men packed loads of food and little tools. I thought at first that their experience in the matter must have warranted this. But upon getting there, they knew exactly where to dig and we didn’t waste any time at all before returning home. I knew something was off as no one knew what the ground holds save the dead who live in it. Not long after, I was invited to another meeting and upon attending, a similar thing occurred and a Watcher was present.
It was then I started paying attention.

After attending several meetings like this, noting the accuracy of the information and the facial neutrality expressed by those present, I knew I was in the dark, I knew it was time I tail a Watcher and scale the barricade.
So one night after the meeting, I followed the Watcher who came to the meeting and upon getting close to the barricade I noticed the strength and gaps in the family’s security. The next day after returning from the easy mine, I set out for the barricade which I scaled easily and upon approaching the mountain, I felt a slight tremor, something common in our village but then it was sharper and with echoes. I however didn’t stop and headed towards the source.
To my greatest surprise, the head of the family was communing with the mountain. It was alive. Unconsciously, a loud scream left my lips and I fainted. Before now, I always believed I was brave and couldn’t be scared or bullied by or into anything. I woke up to a rather strange voice and saw the head of the family who asked what I was doing. I told him I deserved to know the truth and after a sigh, he told me an unexpected story.

Hundreds of years ago, the mountain woke as a result of a turbulent war whose marching and artillery moved the grounds. A young prince ran in for refuge and was greeted by it. They both made a pact and the mountain erupted raw magma that chased away the armies. The Prince’s side of the bargain was to keep the peace in the environ as well as people away from it. The homage brought to the Watchers for the mountain was for the family’s upkeep and to compensate, the growing mountain occasionally tell the citizens where to dig as to ensure the flow of wealth.

As I learnt this, I also learnt that every man that is of age knows this story which has been passed down for generations. The living mountain had mastered human speech and over the years grown a sense of humor. It’s things like this that makes you wonder if all mountains are alive….since they do grow.