The Thing on the Hill

A Short Story by Brady Murphy

As I walked upon the cold, dead earth, on a hill far in the distance, I perceived a great white thing. It appeared to be moving, but only slightly, as if a trick of the light, or a shift in the wind. I felt strangely drawn to the thing, though I could not explain why. I walked forward, ever closer to the horizon, yet as I did, my attention was drawn to the curious weather. The sun was gone from the sky, though there were no stars, and no moon, and the sky was dusky and darkened gray, as I realized it had always been.

The great thing on the horizon seemed to shine of its own means, as it was not apparently affected by the darkness all around. I felt no fear, yet a sense of euphoric curiosity, and I peered around at the land beside me, and discovered in astonishment that it seemed to be disappearing. The tall, dead grass, which had been whipping in the wind, was now standing tall and still, as though petrified, or waiting.

I finally came to the foot of the great hill where the enormous white thing stood, and slowly cautiously -- so cautiously -- I began to scale the massive mound of hard-packed earth, unaware of what I would find.