The Man all Upside-Down

On a moonlit night, four boys gathered by river’s edge. Unknown to them, an endless quiet was close at hand. And though their feet did fall, not a single sound was made. Neither roaring beast nor chirping insect could be heard. In these dark woods, there is naught but silence all around. For, its sounds were swallowed by the man all upside-down. 

Billy, the eldest boy, was the stone-skipping champion. He could always pick the most perfect stones for skipping. Once, he had even skipped a stone thirty-seven times. By the rules they’d made, the champion did not gather stones. So, he set the boys about the task of finding some. 

Fred was first to return with his arms all brimming full. He brought a good candidate, a stone that's smooth and flat. Billy turned it in his hand, judging its size and weight. In the end, he tossed it to the ground with the others. It was a regular stone, no better than the rest. And, for this tall task, no ordinary stone would do. 

Next was Dillon who brought him one better than the last. Its weight was nearly even, and its edges were sharp. It was flatter and smoother than all the other stones. And with nary a flaw, it could even be called great. But, even a stone as great as that would never do. 

Last came little Thomas who brought that which had been sought. “This one will be perfect,” Billy knew with just a glance. But instead, he made a show of examining it. He admired the way it glittered in the moonlight. The stone had a wide face that was flat as flat can be. Last, he marveled at its weight, a perfect harmony. All at once, he held his hand aloft for all to see. A most perfect stone for moonlit river’s summer fun. 

“All bow to the River King,” Billy called out the command in his best royal voice. Obediently, the other boys knelt to the ground. “As is tradition, by the full moon, we gather to crown a new River King!” Deftly, Billy motioned for the other boys to stand. “With this first toss, I declare the start of the Midnight Splash!” 

Billy turned to face the muddy bank of the river. His feet sank slightly into the ground as he stepped up. An intense look of concentration marred his young face. His palms began to sweat as he adjusted his grip. With one deep breath, Billy took a single, perfect step. The speed of his arm and angle of his throw were true. The others all held their breath to see how he would do. And with a great heave, Billy made that perfect stone fly. In the moonlight, the ripples danced a graceful ballet. But there was no melody to accompany it. The stone had made all silent steps across the river. An eerie quiet followed the disappearing stone. A stillness hung heavy in the air and froze the boys. And then, all other sounds fled fast from the riverbank. All that remained were the frightened whispers of those boys. 

“It’s him, Billy!” Thomas, the youngest of the group, pulled on his friend’s sleeve. He wanted to be brave, but the quiet still scared him. “The man all upside-down.” Billy ignored this to find another worthy stone. He knew just which story Thomas was talking about. They had heard it from the camp counselors just last night. 

Long ago, there was a boy, 

Lost, never to be found. 

He threw his things all around, 

And smashed them to the ground. 

But not one had made a sound. 

The boy, this did astound. 

Shadows in the woods abound, 

All backwards, they were found. 

He laughed till one laughed right back, a man all upside-down. 

“That’s just a stupid kids' story!” Billy kept picking through the pile for another stone. 

Fred looked at Dillon before he decided to speak. “We were thinking about heading back, too.” They were twins, and so, they agreed on most everything. Billy bristled at the slight to his authority. He was the River King, so that marked him as leader. His breathing deepened in preparation for a fight. He stood nearly half a foot taller than either twin. He was a year older with much more experience. If it came to a fight, he was sure he could take them.

A sound almost like laughter cut the silent tension. Fred and Dillon recoiled at the sound, ready to run. Thomas shivered and pulled on Billy’s sleeve once again. “Let’s go,” he pleaded to his friend, but his words fell on deaf ears. “If the counselors catch us, we won’t be able to play Capture the Flag.” Capture the Flag was everyone’s favorite game at camp. Even Billy himself didn’t want to miss the game. But crowning a new River King was too important.

“You’re all scared of a little dark, and some sound in the woods?” Billy turned and sneered, unimpressed with the other boys. “Then go back, you little scaredy-cats, but I’m not afraid! I'll stay out all night and be River King forever!”

Billy returned to his task of choosing a new stone. As he worked, the stones slid and scraped against each other. He tried his best to ignore the absence of those sounds. Again, that sound of almost-laughter cut through the night. The other boys all jumped in fright and ran back to camp. 

All alone, that great, heavy silence pressed on Billy. Without the other boys, he couldn’t banish his thoughts. The first gentle nudging of fear made its way to him. He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself. After what he had said, he couldn’t go back just yet. He’d push those thoughts out of his mind and ignore the sound. 

But in these woods, there are things that will not be ignored. On the ground, his shadow moved to face the other way. In his fright, Billy knocked over the mountain of stones. A silent avalanche tumbled down onto the ground. Billy had always been the biggest and the bravest. For the first time in his life, that wouldn’t be the case. He felt small and helpless in the middle of nowhere.

He turned to the woods and saw something shine in the dark. A bright white curve splitting the silhouette of a tree. It glistened, wet like the stones the boys had brought to him. He heard that awful laugh, and saw that curve open wide. Those white, wet stones were long as his hand and sharp as knives. And in a silent snap, all that white returned to black. Billy ran faster than fast to his best hiding spot. It was a tree with bark as white and smooth as paper. No one ever found him in the roots of that old tree. 

See a grin from ear to ear. 

When there is naught to hear. 

Whether he is far or near, 

It's time to hide, my dear. 

I say these things not in jeer. 

If he can see you clear, 

By these rules you must adhere. 

For, if you do not, then that lost boy’s fate you will share. 

The shadows twisted and moved underneath his feet. They came from all sides, a set of walls to block his sight. Again, that haunting, mocking laughter filled the forest. His feet hammered to the ground, and he flew through the trees. Fewer and fewer streams of moonlight broke through them now. Soon, there would be nothing but that darkness all around. He felt as if he’d run for miles, the tree must be close. He stopped to find his way, his head whipping to and fro. Billy spotted his tree when he turned the other way. In his flight, he’d been turned around and run right past it. He darted back knowing how little time he had left. He felt icy fingers grip and freeze his thumping heart. He feared he’d never be free if he were to get trapped. But that total black now completely surrounded him. In a panic, Billy realized he hadn’t made it. He was now fully blind with that cage of shadows closed.

Though he couldn’t see, Billy knew the feel of his tree. Slowly, he made his way through the ever quiet dark. With neither eyes nor ears, trouble was sure to find him. His foot had caught on something, and he stumbled forward. He fell to the ground and bashed his head on something hard. As he moved to stand, Billy felt that paper smooth bark. Finally, he’d made it to a place he could be safe. He felt for that secret place, where the roots opened up.

Before, it was barely big enough for him to fit. Since then, he'd dug it out till he could crawl on his knees. Quickly and quietly, he crawled down into the hole. This was a sanctuary where nothing could hurt him. In all his years at camp, none had ever found him here. Still, he could hear that mocking laugh grow ever closer. 

Despite the total darkness, he wanted to peek out. Just when he was about to look, a thought crossed his mind. For the first time, Billy wondered if that thing could hear. He could still hear the other boys before they had left. And he had been hearing its laughter for the whole time. He hadn’t been able to hear it move through the trees. And, though they were heavy, he never heard his footsteps. Could this beast be hearing those sounds that had fled from him? He was careful not to disturb a thing on his way. Billy peered through the roots and gasped at what he saw there. A great, round pair of eyes, staring straight down into his. 

Do not cry and do not whine. 

Offer a hand of thine. 

Close your eyes and count to nine. 

Keep them shut, you’ll be fine. 

Pray to what you hold divine, 

That flesh, he won’t decline, 

Or on your soul he shall dine. 

In his belly, a never-ending pain you will find. 

Billy tried to scream, but the sound never reached his ears. No matter how hard he tried, he could not find his voice. It too had been swallowed by the man all upside-down. Panicking, Billy scrambled deep down into his hole. A scream echoed inside that dank, dark prison of his. He felt the fiery sting of an overused voice. Had he been screaming that whole time and just never known? He’d lost not just his voice, but the feeling in his throat. Not just in his throat but in his entire body. So close to that monster, Billy hadn’t felt a thing. He knew what would happen if that beast were to catch him. A black so black that no light could ever penetrate. A quiet that crushed all sounds before they could be heard. That thing’s mouth was a bottomless chasm of nothing. 

Desperately, he tried to find anything he could use. On his knees, his hands brushed every surface of that place. He could feel the soft, wet dirt of its walls on his hands. Finally, his fingers touched something cool, hard, and smooth. It was a familiar feeling, one he knew quite well. In his hand, he held a stone the size of a baseball. Billy pulled the stone up and threw it with all his might. It did not sound, but he was sure he had hit his mark. 

The taunting laugh came back again, louder than ever. The laugh was sharp and so loud it even shook his bones. From top to bottom, the sound completely filled his hole. Would his final moments be spent in this deep, dark pit? “It’s not real! It’s just a story! I’ll count to nine, and when I open my eyes, it will all be over,” Billy screwed his eyes shut and begged himself to believe. 

“One,” Billy could barely hear his own hushed and shaking voice. His throat was still raw after all the screaming he’d done. “Two,” the laughter faded and left the silence of a grave. Billy sucked in a breath, waiting for what would happen. Nervously, he gathered his breath to resume the count. “Three.” 

“It’s him, Billy! Let’s go.” The voice of little Thomas echoed inside the hole. No, he refused to believe it had gotten Thomas. They had made it back to camp, he had to believe that. It had to be some kind of trick to make him come out. 

His eyes were shut so tight his forehead began to ache. “Four,” the noise returned, but it was screams instead of laughter. It was louder than before, even shaking the ground. “Five,” the screams had become so loud, they drowned out Billy’s voice. “Six,” the sound felt closer now, and the air grew damp and warm. A heavy breeze moved across his face and through his hair. It was in the hole now, screaming right in front of him. Billy lurched back, putting his hands up to shield himself. 

Then, he’ll laugh in full delight. 

His true goal is your plight. 

He’ll take your thumb just to spite. 

If you’ll survive this night, 

Thank him for that awful bite, 

But wait until first light. 

This, he holds a sacred rite, 

“Seven,” he could no longer hear his own voice as he counted. He felt his tongue in his mouth and his breath on his lips. Only by these things did he know that he had spoken. There was another laugh, but this one was deep and slow. It beat his chest like ocean waves against the cliff side. Billy’s hand was taken in a flash of searing pain. He tried to pull it back, but that thing’s grip was too strong. “Eight,” he could not even feel a single thing anymore. Not his hand nor his body, even his mind was numb. It was like drifting off to sleep, tucked safe into bed. No, if he fell into this sleep, he would never wake. Billy had to get out, and with all his strength he cried, “Nine!” All at once, the sounds of the forest flooded his ears. Slowly, Billy dared to open his eyes once again. Moonlight streamed inside the gap between the ground and roots.

The pain from where his hand was bitten had come back now. His whole right arm was a bloody mess to the elbow. Just like in the story, the beast had taken his thumb. And without it, he would never skip a stone again. What sort of River King couldn’t even skip a stone? He spat and cursed that monster for taking it from him. 

Billy’s heart sank when he heard a true, full-bellied laugh. Then, he saw the shadow of a man all upside-down. Now in the moonlight’s glow, he saw the beast full and clear. A wicked and terrible grin stretched from ear to ear. In sudden horror, he remembered that story’s end.

Everyone pays the price, break these rules and you'll pay twice.

And in that moment, Billy felt the full weight of fear.