Lucifer And The Fairy Part One

Throughout history, the name Lucifer has always been associated with bad luck, and to be honest, up until eighteen months ago, I would have agreed.

It became a tradition that the name Lucifer be given to the first son of every generation. As far back as I have managed to trace, that tradition was almost welded into our family.

Lucifer And The Fairy Part One

My Dad sure must have breathed a sigh of relief when he read up on that one, and I'm sure it was with a certain amount of glee that he handed this 'gift' to me. Mom protested, but the whole family, both sides, and none liked it- they just ganged up on her, so Lucifer it was. Mom's rebellious streak held out, and she was the only one that called me by my middle name, David. Why couldn't this tradition have been to call every generation's first son David? Life sure would have been much easier on us, Lucifer's.

You see, selected Devil's in our family life on a mountain, we are known as the mountain's keepers. Quite what we keep has always been a mystery to me. After all, a hill is a mountain in anyone's book, so who would want to own one, and yet we do, and for several generations, I've been told.

Anyway, sit back, and I'll tell you what happened eighteen months ago, and maybe it will answer some questions.

~

Mom knocked on my bedroom door and then entered the tears in her eyes, and the letter in her hand told me this was going to be a bad day on such a big scale. She paused, trying so hard to think of any way she could to say what needed to be said; Dad came along his arm around her waist in support. Dad whispered something to her, and although she nodded her head, Mom set off into a fresh bout of crying. Yet, all I could do was sit and watch these events as they unfolded, still not knowing what the heck was going on.

"This is yours son; I'm sorry."

Holding an envelope in her hand, she was crumpling up the letter she had in the other. I took it and read the front all it had on it was the word 'Lucifer,' shrugging my shoulder; I opened it and read three lines. An appointment was made with a lawyer for the next day along with a time, and that was it. But judging from Mom's reactions, it didn't take much to figure that my uncle was now dead.

The house's mood was somber; Dad was in contact with the lawyers, trying to sort out the funeral arrangements. They had already been taken care of. Dad was furious, but the lawyers wouldn't budge. The tradition of the Lucifer's, or rather the keeper's in our family, took precedence over his appeals to have his brother brought home and buried here. His brother was buried that same day in the town close to the mountain, and there was nothing he could do about it.

My meeting with the law firm RTS Backings the next day went just as well. This same law firm had handled all of Lucifer's business for as far back as any of us could remember. I was shown into the office of Mr. Abraham Trenton III and instantly disliked him. More so when he sat me down and, with a folder in hand, started placing a sheet of paper after paper in front of me, mumbling the words' sign here'.

Now thoroughly pissed off, I got up and, with my folks in tow, walked out and went home, much to Mr. Trenton III's dismay and his still unsigned paperwork. A day later, I received a letter from the law firm re-booking my appointment; I, in turn, phoned back and canceled it. The law firm was getting more and more desperate as weeks turned into months, once even coming to the house to be told by me that I wasn't in and with a smile slamming the door in their face.

But as they say, all good things do come to an end. The folks were getting real pressure from the rest of the family. To them, I was turning my back on a tradition that our family had held dear for so long that no one could remember why we still keep it so dear. The lawyers were on the phone daily, offering to permanently remove Mr. Trenton III from all involvement in this and any other Lucifer case and replace him with another from the firm. Then there was that nagging feeling I was having that I was being watched.

In frustration, I phoned the law firm and agreed to their terms. I wouldn't come into the firm until I had been to the mountain and had a look for myself. They instantly agreed. I started to wonder who was putting so much pressure on them to do so. The mood changed within the family, and I could see the weight lift off my Dad's shoulders. Mom held her council on this, telling me it was up to me what I did, and she would back me to the hilt if I ever changed my mind.

~

Pulling up alongside the cabin and getting my first look at it, my mind was just about made up there and then to go back to civilization and pull the house down. It just felt too remote for my taste, but a promise was a promise. So with continuing doubts about why I was here in the first place, I left the comfort of my truck and ventured towards the cabin. What surprised me was how clean everything was, considering my uncle had died several months back. It had taken me this long to take time off of work. From the outside, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it.

Hearing footsteps coming from the side and then seeing a man come around the corner of the cabin instantly shocked me. At first, the man stood and looked at me, feeling like he was trespassing. I suppose he noticed my glare, and he smiled, and for some reason, I was more at ease, re-evaluating him. He stood just over five feet, although he leaned on the stick that was just as tall as he was. I would think about adding maybe another two inches to that; his beard was grey, contrasting with his brown eyes.

The animal skin jacket and trousers he wore seemed to suit him. However, I kept getting the feeling I was looking at Grizzly Adams. Even when he dropped his pack off his back and started walking towards me with the aid of the stick, I still didn't feel threatened by his actions.

"I guess you're Lucifer, the names Freddy."

We shook and smiled.

"I see news travels fast in this neck of the woods. Yes, I'm Lucifer."

"We've been expecting you, the mountain doesn't seem complete without a Lucifer here, and I hope you like the cabin."

Shrugging my shoulders, I still stood watching him, too many questions and no answers, and that's a puzzle I can't stand, so I tried again.

"You from around here?"

Freddy sensed something in my question and smiled that disarming smile of his.

"Oh, I'm from everywhere. I tended to drop by and see how old Lucifer was getting on. We used to share a drink on the porch and watch the occasional sunset, glad to see with you here now that tradition can continue."

Something in his statement didn't feel right, and no matter how many times I run it over in my head, the answer remained the same.

"We'll see Freddy. I'm only here for a week. I have yet to decide if I want to live here."

This time, the smile faltered before his eyes smiled. Shaking his head, slowly turning and walking back to his pack, he bent down and picked it up, slung it over his shoulder, and walking back around the side of the cabin. I followed a few moments later only to find no sign of him anywhere. Feeling a little weirded out, I walked back to the truck, pulled my bag out, and entered the cabin.

The inside was as neat and tidy as the outside. The fire was lit and burning up a nice warm feeling. Making a mental note to add a lock to the door on my next trip into town, I set about making the place my home for the next week. By the time I had straightened everything out, it was dark outside. I grabbed a coffee and sat on the porch watching the stars, listening to the breeze through the trees and the fireflies that skipped across the clearing started to give me a new perspective about the place.

Hell, why lie. I was so at peace here; I didn't know places like this existed. Yes, something odd about the area, but something magical, and natural-born cynics like me don't come across this sort of thing often. With the remnants of my coffee now cold, I headed for the door and bed only to feel the hairs on the back of my neck raise. Looking out towards the clearing was a useless act, considering the only illumination on the mountain was coming from the stars. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched again. I must have spent a good ten minutes looking outwards, trying to put my mind at ease, eventually shrugging my shoulders and heading inside to sleep.

Morning brought the dawn song of what felt like every bird on the mountain. Since there was little point in trying to sleep in, I got up, made breakfast, and sat out on the porch. For a moment, I still had that nagging feeling that I was being watched, and finally, even that left me to be replaced again by the peace I felt last night. There was no point in fighting off the inevitable; I was hooked, this mountain held me in its grasp, and there seemed little point in denying it. I understood why my uncle lived here and why he rarely came to family gatherings.

Over the next weeks and then a month, I put my business in order. All the time, I listened to Mom as she gave me reasons why I was insane and didn't have to follow the rest of Lucifer's tradition. Finally, Dad whispered in my ear, and the stroke of genius of inviting Mom onto the mountain for a visit put her at ease. She came for a week and stayed for two. Mom was now on my side, which was important to me; she even met Freddy. His charm and sightseeing trips all over the mountain won her over; as I took her home, she realized that she was outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

~

Soon the months took on a life of their own. The only times I was ever off the mountain was going to get supplies and visit my folks; thankfully, they came to me as well. Dad told me once on one of our walks with Freddy that his one regret was that we as a family never came to see his brother while he was on the mountain. Freddy told him that his brother understood, and he never begrudged him the life he had with my Mom. It was strange how Freddy had seemed to have snuck into my life to the point where he appeared to be a permanent fixture. My folks looked on him as an eccentric uncle and told him so. I can still hear his laughter ringing across the mountainside even now.

It was on one of my trips into town for supplies that things changed dramatically. Not sensing any significant change, had I known, would I have done anything differently? I could lie and say yes, but one look at my eyes, and you would know my heart would give me away.

"Lucifer, you best stay in town tonight."

Henry was standing by the door to the store, a photo in his hand. I was about to speak when he detached himself from the door, walked to the edge of the porch, and showed me the picture.

"I've pulled this off the weather stations satellite feed. The clouds are the other side of the mountain, and if that lot comes down all at once, it's liable to wash away half the mountain top."

My first instinct was to agree with him. The picture in his hand contrasted totally with the bright blue skies above us. Something in the back of my mind kept telling me I needed to be on the mountain, so I waved Henry goodbye and headed back.

The wheels of the pickup touching the small dust road leading to the bridge before the first of the rain hit the screen, rapidly turning into a downpour so bad that the wipers had trouble keeping up with the water hammering onto the screen.

The rain clouds so dense now that I had to turn on the lights, the darkness growing by the second, and the rain's nose hitting the truck kept me fully alert and very worried. Even in four-wheel drive, the pickup was having trouble keeping to the dirt track, and my knuckles were white. I gripped the wheel so hard, trying to keep a straight line and not end up slamming sideways into a tree. Lightning added to my problems, flashes causing my night vision to be all but useless to me now. I knew I couldn't increase my speed as much as I wanted to; the old road had now become too treacherous even to attempt it.

The rain had already washed away the dust layer causing the hard under layer to let the water run down at an alarming rate. Even the risk of using the brakes had to be considered twice. The next lighting fork allowed me to see the bridge up ahead, and my heart sank, the force of the rain now had made the river higher, and it was now time to start worrying about the bridge.

Gingerly I placed the front wheels onto the bridge and waited; it groaned. Opening the window made the noise sound almost human-like; the rain had already soaked my head and chest and made life real tricky when I tried to look up the mountain. Bits of debris followed the rushing white water hitting one of the main supports. The vibrations going through the bridge are now being felt through the truck's steering wheel.

Again that need to be on the mountain was pushing me, but my survival instinct still urged caution; crossing this bridge now and in this weather was insane, yet I smiled to myself as I went the gearshift, and the truck slowly rolled forward. The rain seemed to intensify, making it look like the bridge was its private river; my hands ached with the grip I held that wheel, my knuckles white and contrasting with the wheel's blackness.

Now halfway across and looking straight ahead, desperate not to look down or distract me in any way, I'm sure if it didn't rain running down my face, it would have been sweat. Suddenly I yelped as I heard a crack. The left-hand side of the truck dipped, all movement forward now ceased, and terror gripped me, forcing instinct to take over and my shaking hand stuck in into reverse, nothing.

"Well, Lucifer, you're already wet; you may as well get it over with."

Leaving what I thought was my truck's safety and moving to the front to inspect the damage. Inwardly I groaned; one of the boards had weathered and snapped, wedging the front tire into the gap. Another roar and crash made me look out towards the rushing water running down the mountain. I'm sure the look of horror on my face didn't do the real fear in my justice. A considerable tree now came crashing down the river, pulling up yet more trees in its wake. It slammed into the bridge's direct support.

The force sent me against the truck and then to the floor of the bridge. It felt like the bridge moved an inch; instinctively, I held onto the car as another tree followed the last one against the support. The shudder made the truck lurched, and the fear of dying outdid any sentiment I had for that truck any day. I ran for it.

I never knew that the sound of wood, which I once looked on as so reliable now twisting and breaking, could ever make noises like this. Too scared even to look back, I just kept running, watching my feet as best I could while the bridge floor seemed to do its dance under me. With one final lunge, I jumped away from the bridge. To the safety of the muddy riverbank gasping for air, my truck gave its last farewell groan as it and the bridge disappeared into the river.

Not feeling brave enough to look down the steep bank to look at the damage, I picked myself up and accepted that I couldn't get any wetter. I hoped I wouldn't get struck by the lightning dancing across the mountain. I cussed out a few words my Mom would slap my ass for and started my walk to the cabin, dry clothes, and a roaring fire.

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