Rocket Mountain

Browsing Reddit I came across a writing prompt which stated "Mountain ranges are just the protruding spines of giant rocket monsters. You are a cyclist riding past when one of these monsters emerges."

Rocket Mountain

By Luke Townsley 6/9/2014, All Rights Reserved

Boulder, Colorado is nice enough, I suppose. I was not very excited about moving out here from the cozy beaches of Florida, but the money was better and it was closer to my mom, so I had that going for me.

I was quickly put aside by the overwhelming friendliness in the small town. Sure, the people in Florida were nice. That good ole fashioned southern hospitality not so subtly laced with boiling racism and ignorance from both sides of the isle was rather easy to get used to, but here in Boulder everyone was genuinely nice. I quickly passed it off to the recent legislation decriminalizing marijuana in the state and assumed everyone was just high all the time.

My favorite pass time was riding my bike to and from work when the weather would permit. This was one thing I always wanted to do in Florida but after seeing several cyclist and motorcyclist swiftly turn into new speed bumps on the 98 I swiftly gave way to the desire to live past my mid-twenties and shelved the bicycle.

It was a calm, crisp, slightly chilly Monday morning like any other. As I left my loft I said hello to Mrs. Herman, a kindly old lady that most probably would be able to give a minute-by-minute replay of the entire Woodstock concert of 1969 if I gave her the chance, and coasted downhill to a nearby park to do my morning stretches.

First came the calf stretches where I would grab onto a large rock planted in the middle of the sidewalk near the rest area and juice bar which was usually populated by other twenty-somethings combing the knots out of their patchy bears and discussing the merits of Marxism or the least popular opinion they could muster up from the internet and why it should become the most popular opinion then swiftly double back on their opinions the following day when more than two people began to agree with them.

Today was not any different.

A character I often took interest in was a bloke I nicknamed Patch Adams. It is a horrible nickname, I must admit. He resembled nothing in any way to the actual physician or the Robin Williams imitation in the self titled feature film. The reality was that I wanted to call him Grizzly Adams because he reminded me of a fellow student from high school that all the other students had called Grizzly Adams due to his robust size and unnatural ability to grow a full beard at the age of fifteen. Even to this day I am not entirely too sure where they got the nickname “Grizzly Adams” from, but I never was too keen on pop culture references at the time.

My Patch Adams on the other hand was skinny beyond anything I might consider healthy, especially considering my own lanky build, and I assume it was most likely that he was a devout vegan, at least a believer in Homeopathy or, at worse, both. Due to his visible and almost sickening lack of basic nutrients his beard, if I dare call it one, has grown in very sparingly. All the parts you would automatically envision being covered by a beard, such as his cheeks, chin, upper lip and jaw line, were anything but. They had the youthful peacefulness of a twelve year old boy, meanwhile every space in between those mentioned had long, scraggly, almost steel wool looking sprouts of hair bursting forth.

The “Adams” part of my crafty nickname was strictly a reference to how he looked as though he might be a member of the Adam's Family due to his unnaturally pale skin. Fairly simple, I know.

Now, on with my soleus and Achilles tendon stretches but not before Mud-pie Maggie rolls up. Her Hollandia City Leopard could be spotted from a mile away on a snowy day. Not only was it merely a two hundred dollar bike on Amazon trimmed out with absurd and distasteful leopard print vinyl over what, I can only guess, were art deco attempts at fender skirts but it was a Hollandia. A Hollandia. Let that sink in for a moment.

If the sound of bent and strained spokes did not warn you of her presence the wall of patchouli oil fragrance that would hit you head on would.

“Hi, Luke!”

Oh Zeus, she has spotted me.

“Hi, Maggie!” I quickly reply in my perfectly rehearsed and most cheerful tone.

“Stretching those hamstrings huh?” She said with a skin crawling wink.

Soleus... it's called a soleus.

“Yep! Gotta keep loose you know.” I give her a wink back.

“When will we meet your boyfriend?”

My advanced rejection skills have come in most handy with this one.

“Oh you know, he is not much for bicycling. He prefers those dinosaur burning dinosaurs.” Just play along. I could not stand any more advances from her, merely the idea of her even touching my calves or forearm again was almost enough to turn me gay. This did have its downside however.

“Hi, Luke!” This time it was Bob.

Bob had such an amazing lack of personality I could not even assign him a proper nickname. His parents could not even give him a proper name, not even Robert. Bob, that was all he got.

His blandness is contagious. I could not even muster up the slightest inkling of faux excitement in hearing his greeting.“Hi, Bob.”

“How's your Achilles doing?”

A few month prior I was peddling my way down the access strip to the Boulder Creek path just southwest of the Naropa University Athletics Field when I hit a massive twig as thick as a pencil which punctured my front tire and sent me careening off into the ditch where I hyper extended my left Achilles tendon. Bob had the fortune of being out on a jog that afternoon on the same path and witnessed the entire disaster first hand. Being a third year physical education student and top track athlete at the college he pounced into action and fashioned me a brace of sorts out of the very twig that crippled me and strips of my deflated inner tube. It really was quite impressive, the only real downside to the whole event was henceforth he felt as though he had an open invitation to coach me during my stretches and... touch me.

“Good as new!” I lied, the son of a b***h still hurts but I wasn't about to encourage him.

“Good to hear!” There was a momentary meeting of eyes between Bob and Mud-pie Maggie, almost as though they had a plan of sorts. I dared not phantom what that plan might be but the thought that there might be one at all that could possibly involve me and those two was enough to cause me to misplace my right foot for the third round of soleus stretches.

As Maggie turned to meet with her like whom had arrived a moment earlier at the Juice Bar Bob turned and immediately noticed my poor stance and before I could correct it he was down on his knees, his head just next to my right glute, as he took hold of my inner calf with his left hand and my outer ankle with his right hand and forcefully corrected my stance.

“There you go, buddy.” He said softly, letting his left hand linger on my calf for what would have most definitely resulted in a sexual harassment lawsuit in a professional environment.

I shifted my stance abruptly, took a few steps away from the rock and began jogging in place, signaling that I had finished my stretches. The signal worked, even though I had barely gotten through stage two of my ten stage warm-up routine, and Bob leaped up to his feet.

“Ready to go, huh?”

“Yep.”

Please just go…

Bob glances over his shoulder for a moment over towards the juice bar where Maggie and her friends were obviously watching the two of us intently.

Oh Zeus, this couldn't possibly get any worse.

Now rubbing his neck uncomfortably, Bob turns back to face me and before the words could escape his lips I feel my heart sinking. It is about to get worse.

“So, uh... I know you ride the trail up to sixth street to get to work. Maggie and a group of us were heading that way to picnic anyways and we thought you might like to ride along with us.” He had to be thinking the same thing I was. Why him? Why today?

I shoot a look over to the juice bar, sending Maggie and her comrades scattering like roaches and giggling like hyenas. It felt like junior high all over again and if there was one thing I learned in junior high it was to never reject an offer from a group of greasy, dress and moccasin wearing girls lest you feel their wrath in the form of getting bludgeoned by said moccasins between shouts of “Why don't you like me?!” and “You sexist pig!”.

“Yeah! Sure that sounds like a blast!” The word “blast” escaped my lips sounding almost too eager. Damn my finely honed lying abilities via overtly excited proclamations.

Bob's face lit up at hearing my stupid agreement. “Great!” He exclaimed, practically mimicking the exact tone that had escaped my lips moments before. “Shall we?”

“After you.” I bow and make a sweeping motion with my arms in the direction of the juice bar. A shrill squeal of excitement rings out as one of the spying girls when she saw that I agreed to the endeavor and a group of ten or so, including Mud-pie Maggie and Patch Adams, all scurried off to the bike racks to claim their earth saving modes of transportation.

I quickly retrieve my bike, which had been leaning against my makeshift stretching post-rock, and follow Bob whom was now grinning from ear to ear as the crowd mounted their bicycles and began winding down the path ahead of us. Something was wrong. Well naturally this whole encounter just stank of patchouli but I am powerless. My unwillingness to reject these poor souls has doomed me to the most miserable bike ride I will likely ever experience.

Being that I skipped eighty percent of my morning stretch I am roughly fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, which was fortunate since the group seemed incapable of riding in a straight line and often wandered off the trail to look at flowers or pick up the rare piece of trash on the trail. A good ten minutes into the ride we had covered about one-sixth of the trail up to sixth street and it was growing painfully obvious that there was no way I would make it to the office in time at this rate so I clicked down a gear and glided out ahead of the pack.

Maggie, who was surprisingly the furthest ahead of the group widened her eyes as though impressed by my speed as I passed her by before sending me a toothy grin and glancing behind me. My eyes follow hers and there behind me is Patch Adams and Bob, effortlessly keeping up with me. I admit it was not my intention to leave the pack behind, that would be rude after all, but it is surprising none the less. How in the world could Patch possibly keep up with me? The poor guy looked like he was already about to implode as his chest heaved inwards and out. I best slow down a hair, no reason to send anyone to the hospital.

Bob and Patch ease up beside me as we settle into a comfortable, but not too strenuous pace, and we cover a good mile this way without a single word passed between us. I guess this is not so bad after all. Maybe they were just wanting to invite me along for a ride and there were no ulterior motives? Awesome.

As I often do, I thought too soon.

“So...” wheeze, “Luke, right” wheeze. It was Patch Adams.

“That's me.”

“My name's...” wheeze, “Oli...” wheeze, “Oliver, but everyone calls me...” wheeze.

Poor thing could barely speak between raspy breaths. “Oli?” I guessed, trying to save him from having to squeeze out another syllable.

Oli, formerly known as Patch Adams, nods and smiles, his grin reminding me of a Magic: The Gathering playing card I had in Highschool of a creature called an Atog. His teeth were abnormally spaced, leaving substantial room between each for an extra lower incisor.

“Nice to meat you, Oli.” This minor exchange appeared to break the ice.

“So, Luke, how long have you lived in Boulder?” Asks Bob as he inches up beside me.

“About a year.”

Yay, phatic communication. Not my strong suit.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

Patch Ada-er-Oliver found his moment to participate once more and blurted out the obvious follow-up question. “Where did you come from?”

“Navarre.”

“Fl...” wheeze, “Florida?!”

“Yeah.”

Gasp. “My aunt lives there!”

“Cool.”

Oliver must have run out of breath so Bob took the next obvious follow-up question.

“I thought you looked a bit too tan to be a northerner. What brought you here? School?”

“Work.”

“Yeah? What do you do?”

Just as I was thinking I couldn't tolerate another moment of this useless dialogue the sixth street intersection breaks over the crest in the path. I am nearly home free.

Sensing he was nearly out of time, Bob speeds up a little to make his way slightly in front of me to my left and begins gently weaving back and forth, most probably stalling but I maintain my course, aiming my front tire straight for the intersection.

“So,” shouts Bob from over his shoulder. “Maggie and I have a bet going.”

A small rumble rolls its way down the path towards us from the west. It was not uncommon for this time of the year, as they would often set off charges in the mountains to kick-start avalanches before the whole mountain face would melt off in one massive cascade.

“Oh yeah?” I shout, feigning curiosity, as the sound passes over us. It did seem slightly stronger than usual at this distance from the slopes. A weak snicker follows from behind, reminding me of Oli's presence.

“Maggie says,” gasp, “says you aren't really gay.” wheeze.

My jaw clenches and another rumble, louder this time makes its way from the mountains towards us.

“Oh yeah?” my voice quivers a little as I try to shout over the rumble, I am busted. No wonder the girls were circling like hyenas earlier. Surely they convinced these two clowns to root out the truth of the matter. Even worse, if I maintained that I was gay.

“Now, I beg to differ.” responds Bob as he slows and matches pace beside me. “I think you really are gay but I don't think you are already in a relationship.” He looks over at me with a “got you” look on his face and I can feel the blood drain from my face.

This was terrible, not only did Maggie see through my ploy but now it is growing painfully obvious that Bob thinks that he might actually have a chance with ME. Me!

Just as the panic begins to take full root a sudden and shrill squeak screams from behind me.

Now, I feel I must explain something. I am most typically a very cool and calculated personality but I have this problem that rears it's ugly head when I am caught in adverse moments such as these. I freeze up. My body goes cold and I find myself totally incapable of functioning, everything slows down to half speed, voices become muted and all I can hear is my heart thumping away inside my hollow chest. So as I turned to see what the sudden squeaking was from my arms followed my gaze, causing the front tire to turn sharply at a ninety degree angle and subsequently hurling me head over heals onto the asphalt below.

Right before my face plows into the ground I see the face of poor Oli staring, mortified dead ahead into the sky. He was at a dead stop and pointing west towards the mountains, lips quivering around his oddly gapped teeth.

I wake some time later to find myself lying on my back, looking into Bobs worried face.

“Luke!” He is yelling over some terribly loud rumble. “Luke! Wake up!”

Maybe it was the knock to the head, or perhaps the fear and concern in Bobs golden brown eyes, but suddenly I felt very aroused. The way he cradled my head, so gentle. His smile when he saw me begin to blink away the shock. The vibrating sensation all throughout my body. My Zeus! Could I really be attracted to this man?

As this realization begins to work its way into my bones a shrill scream breaks the moment of bliss and Bob breaks eye contact with me, clearing my view to the mountain range to the west. The whole range looks as though it is moving. I blink several times more and as my sight begins to clear I notice a glistening cloud of ice and snow rising from between the peaks.

More screams emerge as my head begins to clear and I look down to see the rest of the group a short ways ahead all watching as the mountain begins to rise ever so slowly, the rumbling growing more deafening by the second. Poor Oli had taken Maggie into his arms, as though his frail body would protect her from whatever horrible thing was about to happen.

Suddenly a massive boom rattles the ground beneath me, the shock wave rocking everyone not already on the ground to their knees followed by more blood freezing screams from the group of girls. What was happening? Did the controlled avalanche lose control? Why was there so much ice and snow pluming from the mountains? A volcano maybe?

As though to answer my bewildered questions a large dark plume rises from the base of the mountain range and we all watch in a mix of awe and horror as massive section of the mountainside slip away from itself and crumble into the valley. Between falling rocks and toppling trees I occasionally catch a glimpse of bright yellow and orange. Lava for sure. The whole mountain range had gone volcanically active.

Another loud boom rocks us, sending up massive plumes of dust and snow from the mountains and a moment later another shock wave rattles us, this time tossing us all into the air. I land on top of Bob, who was still holding me close, and I feel his ribs crack under the impact, but through it all he still holds me. As the tremors subside to a much more tolerable rumble I look over once more at the small group and see that one of the poor girls had fallen onto Maggie’s bicycle, subsequently impaling her through the abdomen with the handle bars. Next to her flailing and screaming is another girl, her once blue and green spring dress now stained in deep dark red as she wallows about in the her friends blood.

The rumble was nearly deafening and in my awe of the carnage around me I notice Maggie and Oli still holding one another tightly against the background of the rising mountainside. It is a lovers embrace if I have ever seen one. I feel my heart warm as the backdrop of the two burst into vibrant yellows and oranges, so bright that I am forced to shade my eyes for a moment. Once my eyes adapt I look onward in absolute disbelief as the mountains begin to rise upwards, slowly into the dust and ice polluted blue sky.

Almost as to make sure I could share this experience with someone as Oli and Maggie were at the moment I look down at Bob, whom I was now laying on top of, and see him looking back up at me, his eyes now gold in the yellow orange light. He is smiling, why I cannot fathom but the only appropriate thing I can think to do in this moment of absolute horror is hug him, take him into my arms as he did me and try like hell to find some kind of beauty in this nightmare beyond nightmares.

I lay flat against him and rest my head next to his, turned so I could watch the impending destruction. As the mountains rise up into the sky like rockets I pull Bob in tight, holding him as close as I could manage. It was not until one of the peaks turned and began moving towards us that I realized my soul comfort, the one person I could share this moment with was not breathing beneath me. I ripped my eyes away from the sight of the mountain hovering towards us, its fiery jets incinerating anything on the ground below it, only to see a pool of blood growing beneath Bob's head. He was dead and in that moment, looking into his golden eyes, with that stupid smile on his face, I realized that he died happy, with me in his arms. This nearly total stranger had loved me all along and I was too tied up in myself, in my self denial to never notice.

I begin to weep uncontrollably as the mountain approaches. I can feel the heat as it dries my tears as fast as they fall and in this final moment I look over to see Oli, the weakest, saddest excuse for a human curled around Maggie like and iron shield. No more did he look sickly, or sad but he was glowing with vibrant determination. I swear he could stave off any threat. He was immortal in that moment, and as the inferno approached everything around him burned, the other girls vaporized in an instant, the steel and aluminum frames of the bicycles melt but he and Maggie remain until the fire scorches my eyes and my flesh melts off my bones.

I did not deserve this life, and the Mountains knew it.

Author's Note

This was written for Reddit in response to a writing prompt which stated: "Mountain ranges are just the protruding spines of giant rocket monsters. You are a cyclist riding past when one of these monsters emerges." The user meant rock monsters but I thought Rocket Monsters would be more interesting.

I am really curious as to how the story made the reader feel, what they liked and if the bits of humor and satire hit their targets. Thanks for any and all pointers!

Reviews

[Da Leigh]

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this story. The entire time the main character was so tied up in trying to avoid these people and keep his distance, but in the end he realizes all the love he could have embraced. You ended this story so well.

I loved the imagery you painted when everything started to fall apart. I must admit that I teared up a little when Bob started to bleed out.

I cannot wait to read more of your writing!

[keatsgb]

A very good style,powerful imagery and a clever!

[theoutsider711]

Thank you! Do you mind telling me what part stood out to you the most? Perhaps something that rang a bell or made you think of something you have experienced in the past?

I am curious if I am relating to the extended reader, other than my girlfriend and siblings. :-D

[C. Rose]

An example of telling "I was quickly put aside by the overwhelming friendliness in the small town."
This is an area where you could attract your reader better if you "show" instead of "tell" us that the town was overwhelmingly friendly.

[theoutsider711]

This has been a recent thing I have been putting some thought into. It is tricky. Thank you very much!

I really ought to add some context... this was written in response to a writing prompt on reddit. The prompt was: Mountain ranges are just the protruding spines of giant rocket monsters. You are a cyclist riding past when one of these monsters emerges.

The user that posted it obviously misspelled "rock" at put "rocket monster" and I just went with it. :-D

[C. Rose]

That's funny! I love inspirational typos and oddly moving captchas :)