The Men of the Blue Mountain

Part 1: The Disappearance

My father use to tell me all the time to be the best type of man that I could be. I looked up to him in every way and imagined that, one day, I could stand as tall and be even half a strong as he was. I still think of my father today as one of the greatest men that ever lived, even though most folks will write that off as a child's bias of his Daddy. Though the kids at school would ridicule and the teachers would give me the same "choose a different hero to write about this time, Sammy", I knew that no one would ever come close to being as wonderful as my own man.

At least, that is what I believed. How could I not. He fit the description perfectly. Large, tough, smart, classy, and most importantly, he was a member of the Men of the Blue Mountain.

For those who don't know, the Men of the Blue Mountain was a league of men who, in a sense, were revered by the community (and for all I know, nationwide). Much like the Stonemasons, they were shrouded with secrecy and were certainly selective about who could be part of their group. I remember some of my dad's friends talking about it when they would come to the house, before my father was initiated, and speak so grandly of the clan of gray haired, wise men. They held a status in our community even that over politics. You could never tell who was in the club just by looking at them, but it was widely known that they were feared, powerful men.

It all started why my dad got his letter in the mail. It was a Sunday and we, obviously weren't expecting any letters, seeing as how, on top of never getting much to begin with in this blue collar town of maybe three thousand people, the post office didn't deliver on Sundays...or at three thirty n the morning.

There was a loud bang on the door which woke us all up from our sleep. I was maybe only eleven or twelve at the time, but I remember it quite vividly. I remember my dad grabbing his shotgun and making moves quickly down the stairs, racking the weapon loudly and checking each corner. The silence for the next two or three minutes was heart-wrenching. When he came back up, he held a white envelope in his hand with a red wax stamp. It was almost like something out of the fantasy books I would read – a letter from a king perhaps. He opened it slowly and the look on his face as he read will be something forever engraved into my mind. The joy and surprise was overwhelming as he hugged my mom and pushed up his chin with such pride. He told us that things were going to change in the house from then on.

And he was right.

My father began leaving late in the evenings, wearing his finest suit. It was the one he wore to his mother's funeral just three years ago, and though it was a simple black and white two-piece, it was the best article of clothing he had. He would be gone for two or three hours at a time and would sometimes wake me and my mother up as he came in. I recall my mother asking what the "meetings" were like and my father would tell her that he couldn't speak of it.

As time went on, my father stopped enjoying the meetings as much. The Men of the Blue Mountain seemed less exciting to him and I could tell by the way he would walk out the door that he no longer wanted to be a part of it anymore. I could see him fighting the battle in his mind each time he put the windsor knot in his black tie.

"Why doesn't he just stop going?" I would ask my mother. But she never had an answer for me. And I knew not to ask him that same question. We were raised not to ask such things of our parents. It was not my place and I knew that.

One night, many months after the letter came, my father stumbled into the house later than normal. His breath smelled strongly of whiskey as he hung to the threshold of my bedroom door, scanning the room for something to sit on.

"Sammy. Are you awake?" he started.

"Yes." I said, rubbing my eyes and sitting up to see him better. He dropped onto my bed, placing his hands on his knees, straightening his back before looking at me.

"I need you to know something. I need you to understand that there is more going on around here than you or Mommy or anyone can imagine."

"What's wrong?" I asked him, now more afraid than concerned. I had never seen my father like this. Even in the dark I could see the color drained from his face.

"This club, Sam. It holds a secret."

"Daddy, you're scaring me." I admitted, wanting to catch the words before they hit his ears as soon as they left my mouth. I waited a moment for his response.

"You should be afraid, son. We all should be."

With that, he stood back up and crashed back out into the hallway before making his way back to his room. I listened t see if there would be conversation with between he and my mother, but all that filled the air was silence. A very long, painful silence.

The next morning went as usual. My father didn't speak of our brief conversation at the table and my mother didn't speak at all. She looked just as frightened as my father had the night before. It was unlike he to not greet everyone with a smile. Something was obviously wrong. My father told me to hurry as I finished my cereal and helped me get my backpack on before I left for school. He hugged me before I walked out the door, which was something I never expected my father to do in his lifetime, nevertheless on just a random morning before school.

"I love you, Kiddo." He whispered in my ear. I could feel his voice trembling.

"I love you too, Dad." I replied, not sure if it was the right thing to say before turning around and heading toward the bus stop.

That was the last time I saw my father.

When I came home, I asked Mom what was wrong with Daddy and she just shrugged it off. I waited for him to come but he never did. I asked my mother when he would be back and she would just tell me that he went with the The Men of the Blue Mountain and to stop asking such questions. Hours turned t nights, nights to weeks, weeks to months and my father never returned. The police were never involved. My mother pretended that everything was ok, which truthfully was the scariest part of the situation. I begged her to answer me and with every attempt she would refuse more and more. Her calm demeanor turned to anger, then to sadness as more nights passed and my father was nowhere to be found.

I finally broke down and told her about the night before he disappeared. I told her about him coming into my room and telling me to be afraid. All she told me was that I should listen to my father.

And never to join the Men of the Blue Mountain.

Years went on and I continued to obey my mother. I was an obedient child and even now, as a young man, I still am there to help her as she needs and to do her bidding as she wishes. However, I know that I will soon have to break her trust and defy her. I just received a letter. A pale white envelope with a red wax stamp.

And I am going to find out what there is to be so afraid of.