"Why is everyone so afraid of going up there?"
The city girl had been pestering the locals for a few days now. Said she was a reporter or something. The honest truth was there was never really any news to report from around these parts. Every year, the seasons changed, but not much else.
The deer hunters came and went, like they always did.
The hikers and campers came and went, like they always did.
The holidays came and went.
Winter, spring, summer, fall. Rinse and repeat.
Just the way things were up here in the hills.
Walt Henley was renting out his old hunting cabin to her - dirt cheap, too. He figured she'd be gone after a day or two. The place had well water, which was usually enough to run off most city folks. But this gal was determined to find a story - even if she had to make one up out of whole cloth.
Walt's mother, Abigail, was the one who invited the city girl to lunch.
"It's the polite thing to do," she admonished him. "It's the Christian thing to do."
She said the last part quieter, almost like a reminder to herself.
And the girl brought questions with her. So damned many questions.
"What makes that hill different from the rest? No good hunting up there or..."
Walt interrupted her, hoping to put an end to the nonsense.
"It's just not safe up there," he said. "No trails, for starters. And there's a lot of wild animals. Mountain lions and such."
His mother looked away, a quiet air of disgust crossing her face. She'd heard these lies before.
Walt continued.
"It's easy to get lost up there. Some hikers got turned around a few years back…"
"Tell the girl the truth."
Abigail's voice was soft, but it cut clean through the room.
Walt's face shifted, the look of a man who knew his mother wasn't about to let him run his mouth this time.
"Tell her about your grandfather."
Abigail Henley's father had come from the old country. His name was Stefan Izbranni, though the locals just called him Old Stef. Walt sighed, realizing there was no getting around it now, and gave the city girl a condensed version of the story.
"Back when Old Stef was still a young man, he went up into Quiet Hill to do some hunting. Said he ran into people who looked like they were from another place... another time. They didn't seem to speak English either. One minute they weren't there - the next he was surrounded."
Walt paused, glancing toward his mother.
"They were what folks around here call the Shim-O-Mites. No one remembers why. That's just what they've always been called. Anyway, they started moving in on him, and he figured diplomacy might buy him some time. So, he just kept pointing to himself and saying his name."
Walt leaned back slightly.
"One of them seemed to recognize it. Izbranni. After that...they backed off. Let him go."
"So, you're saying there's a tribe of people - these Shim-O-Mites - living up there?" the city girl asked. "And people don't go there because of them?"
Abigail answered before Walt could.
"There's been stories about them since long before my daddy went up there. There's even an old song about it."
She looked at the girl.
"Ain't you never heard it?"
The city girl admitted she hadn't, but she leaned forward slightly, curious.
Abigail nodded.
"It goes like this."
Her voice sounded as old as the hills. It wavered between a warble and a wail, a sound that felt less like singing and more like something remembered.
"Folks don't go on Quiet Hill
Where the evening shadows fall
No road runs there, the woods grow still
And no one hears you call
Old church they say - beneath the trees
Where strangers never roam
And those who wander Quiet Hill
Don’t always wander home
On Quiet Hill no road runs there
Through timbers dark and deep
Folks don't go on Quiet Hill
Where the silent people keep
No steeple high, no bell to ring
No light for folks to see
Just low-built stones and songs they sing
For things that used to be
Don’t you go on Quiet Hill
When evening shadows fall
No road runs there, the woods grow still
And no one hears you call"
When she finished, the room felt quieter than before.
Even Walt didn't speak for a moment.
The city girl finally broke the silence.
"You really believe that?"
Abigail looked at her for a long moment.
Then she said quietly:
"I believe folks around here don't go up there."
And that seemed to be answer enough.
copyright notice © 2026 Michael C. Metzger
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