The Secret of Mount Trolla

By Tristan Barr

Soon to be a haunting Motion Picture: An emotionally damaged Espen finds himself amongst a plane with metal rattling and alarm bells ringing before it crashes in remote mountains. As he seeks salvation he is haunted by a young mysterious woman who has survived without human contact. Their cagey relationship gets intimate. As Espen's reality becomes more disturbing, and he starts to question his vision with a homicidal maniac, we're led into a world of the mountain's dark secret. With every twist and turn, we wonder whether or not he can break the shackles of his situation. The revelation of their true identities will give him one more chance to repent before he is doomed to a life of isolation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Continuance Pictures
• Release date: Oct 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393872184

Book preview

1

The air sang with danger. Underfoot the plane lurched violently, a reedy alarm reverberating through the metal contraption and vibrating through Espen’s teeth. He was dizzy, yet alert; worried eyes on the two pilots as they spoke frantically to one another. The words were lost in the deafening howls of the wind outside and the odd clunking, whirring noises of the plane’s mechanics. They sounded angry, hoarse almost as they bellowed back and forth.

Espen could not move. He could not tell if it was the metal shell of the plane shaking so violently or his own limbs. His knees locked, though he willed them fervently to flex and move so that he could reach the pilots. His eyes remained transfixed on the pair of them. The horror of plummeting to his death in the cold, desolate mountains below blotting out all rational function. In his innermost, childish mind he wanted to hear someone else tell him what was happening so that he might be reassured. The adult in him dreaded the answer it had already half-assembled for itself. It didn’t take a detective to work out that this flight had taken a turn for the worst.

One of the men in the cockpit flung his headset down, screaming a last line at the other man, who remained motionless, hands gripping the steering mechanism tightly and shoulders held rigidly. The first man strode over to Espen, thrusting his face into his and shrieking so that he could finally hear, Unless you want to die, jump! He snatched one of the parachutes from where they were hanging beside the door. Before Espen could even react, a blast of icy cold air punched him square in the chest. In the blink of an eye the pilot was gone.

He had not realized how prominent the yelling had been in the overall ambiance of the shuddering world around him. Without the human noise everything suddenly became frightfully real. The sound, which he had not realized had served as an odd, familiar comfort, had been replaced with an ear-piercing whistle as frozen wind whipped through the gaping hole that the pilot had left. Cold, pitiless, the world outside was a thick gray void waiting to swallow him whole.

Quickly, numbly, he fought the invisible hands that sought to pin him to his chair and staggered into the cockpit. We need to go. His words were immediately stolen from his lips. The copilot did not look at him. Taking a deep breath, he screamed, We have to go!

The copilot glared up at him with hard blue eyes, the corners wrinkled with anger, though the actual eyes themselves were as blank and cold as polished stones. We’ll die for sure if we jump! I can land it, you know I can!

The plane bucked, nearly throwing Espen into the console. He righted himself with considerable effort, pausing to look into the copilot’s face with mounting dismay. He was looking straight ahead with his teeth bared and knuckles ghostly white. The man had completely lost his senses. But there was nothing he could do, no time for him to stay and convince this man that to attempt a landing was futile. The swooping feeling in his gut grew stronger and stronger. His stomach had taken up residence in his heel. A quick glance forward yielded a view of a swelling dark gray mass, making Espen’s decision for him.

Without a backward glance, he followed in the footsteps of the first pilot. He was shaking awfully, nearly crippling his ability to put on the parachute and backpack. Somehow, he managed, however. Pack slung over his chest, he leapt into nothingness and plummetted toward the earth. Throughout the whole process his mind was in a state of shock, processing only a smattering of images as he hurtled in freefall. In the blink of an eye, the plane was out of view and out of reach. Moisture from the low-hanging clouds saturated his clothing, making the wind as he fell all the crueler. Sleety particles sliced at his exposed face and hands, effectively forcing his eyes closed.

He pulled the chute. All went still.

It was the silence that was the biggest relief. What had once screeched and torn at his clothes now whispered in his ear and teasingly tugged at his hair and pants. In a snap he could think again. The world took on a sudden clarity, his numbness of mind gone. He was completely lucid as he watched the plane’s descent. Helpless, suspended in the air, he could do nothing as it disappeared into the side of the mountain. The wail of the metal as it contorted and mangled, then bounced from one side of the valley to another. Then an earth-shattering boom. A geyser of fire and smoke flashed upward, lashing out at the overcast clouds before dwindling down to near nothing. The flames were swiftly replaced by a few tendrils of black smoke, the echoes of the explosion fading away so gradually that Espen was certain it was still ringing in his ears as he continued his descent.

It seemed to take years before he passed the tree line. It was at that point that he realized that he had not been controlling the direction of his descent. He raised his arms just in time to shield his face from the slapping, stinging branches. Air whooshed from his lungs as his parachute got caught on one of the thicker boughs, the straps