The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain, and Other Stories

The basalt cliffs of Witch‑Face Mountain loom over a desolate gorge, their jagged outlines sometimes coalescing into a gigantic, sinister countenance when the light catches them just right. Locals speak of the “witch’s face” with a mix of dread and fascination, noting how shadows and wind can make the features seem to stare, grin, or frown at anyone who dares to linger. The stark, scorched timber and thin scrub that cling to the slopes add a haunting texture, turning the whole landscape into a living, ever‑shifting portrait of something older than the surrounding forest.

Among the few who venture up the narrow trail is Constant Hite, a broad‑shouldered woodsman proud of his strength, skill with a rifle, and reputation among the village “gal critters.” He boasts of his daring hunts and the sturdy bay horse that bears his weight, yet the mountain’s eerie visage seems to gnaw at his confidence. As the wind whistles through the gullies, Hite’s bravado meets the uncanny presence of the witch‑shaped stone, setting the stage for a confrontation between man, myth, and the unforgiving wilderness.