Not a road but it sure leads somewhere

This is a dream I had that I ferociously journaled about before my eyes were fully open in order to create this story.

The road continued to grow narrower...and steeper...and soon enough it wasn't a road at all, just a rocky path that other cars had also driven through. I looked to my right; all I could see outside my window was a flat slab of rock. The cliff showed its age proudly: If I looked close enough, I could see starch color contrasts in various shades of brown, signifying the different terrains it has withstood all these years. To the left of me, outside Elle's window, were vast, expansive mountains that seemed never-ending. Our destination, an unnamed National Park, was nowhere in sight. Elle looked terrified as the car precariously shook left and right; the rocks were getting bigger and the road leaner...the left side tires were less than a foot away from sliding off this steep cliff. Were we doomed?

After many twists, turns, bumps, jumps, and four near meetings with death, we arrived at the National Park's visitor center. We were greeted by over fifty people (and most over their fifties in age) with smiling faces and cheerful attitudes. Elle and I were shocked that they too made the drive we just did. Our brains aren't fully developed yet, what was their excuse for risking their lives? We drove into the parking lot and our moods quickly changed from "yay we survived and are about to go hiking with my family" to "uhh this doesn't feel right". The hikers intently watched us from afar - still smiling and clearly not embarrassed whatsoever about blatantly staring - as we got out of the car.

Not soon after we entered the visitor center, my Mom and brothers, Sam and Charlie*, joined us. At this point the sun was about to set, but Mom was determined to hike one specific trail, one that involved scaling a mountain. I was shocked that this would be her desired trail; heights, climbing, and anything remotely dangerous was not her forte. But she had a certain gleam in her eyes that I had never seen before, and we were excited that our mother wanted to do something adventurous, so Sam, Charlie and I didn't push further questions and began to climb**.

Similar to rock-climbing in a safe, cushioned, well secured gym, this mountain had all the divots and bumps in the rock necessary to climb with ease. Except we had no harness, no soft mat below us, and at this point the sun's green flash had said hello and goodbye. I was thankfully easily able to find my footing and grab the appropriate rocks to continue upwards, all without looking down. For if I did, soft lush treetop canopy forty feet below me would look ominous in the darkness and I probably would have fallen (and woken up...which might have been in my best interest). I neared the top; as I grabbed onto the last ledge I found a pen nestled inside the divot. It was tan, satisfying to click (which I did a few times), and had the name "Ken" imprinted on the side. My only thought was "great, a new pen," as I pulled myself to the peak, completing the hike. Night time surrounded me as I looked out at the vast mountains, the full moon emanating just enough light to see outlines of people. I took a deep breath to take it all in before I was interrupted.

"Oh, you found his pen" I spun around and saw an older lady in her mid-sixties, reaching for Ken's pen still in my hand. She too had the excited gleam in her eyes that I found in Mom not so long ago. Her head was covered with a tie-dye bandanna and she looked like she hadn't been indoors in years.

"Have you seen him?" she asked endearingly as I shook my head and explained that I found this pen at the peak of the trail.

"Is Ken your husband?" I asked.

"He's been gone for so long. I'm so glad you found his pen". Before I could ask if she had alerted a park ranger about his disappearance, Ken's friend shrugged and walked away, unphased, and took his pen with her. Baffled by this interaction, I went to go find my family.

I found Sam and Charlie sitting on a bench: Sam clearly drained from the hike and ready to go home, Charlie futsing with his beanie and scratching his arms incessantly; the bugs got to him. My mom, however, was standing by the cliff, eagerly chatting up a woman in a colorful beanie. The gleam in my Mom's eyes grew brighter as I walked over to tell her we were ready to leave the park.

Her eyes grew wide as she grabbed my shoulders, shaking her head no, "We have to wait for the ceremony!" Too tired to ask what this ceremony even was - as I was beginning to feel drained myself - I gently removed her arms from my shoulders.

"No Mom let's go. It's dark out and you hate driving at night. I'll go get Sam and Charlie".

I walked away before hearing her response. Squinting in the darkness, I could only see one figure as I approached the bench that held my two brothers just minutes prior.

"Where did Charlie go?" Sam shrugged, absolutely exhausted and somewhat dazed from the altitude. I too was feeling clouded, like someone covered my brain with a layer of fog. As I turned around to begin my search for Charlie, Mom walked towards Sam and me with headphones in her ears. At this point, she looked downright manic. The fog in my brain was a lightning storm in hers.

"We have to turn away so they don't attack us. Don't make eye contact." She said, guiding us to the cliff and urging us to face the never-ending mountains.

"Mom, what are you talking about?" Sam, now a bit more awake than me, began to look around. His eyes grew wide with fear as he pointed about 20 yards away, near the precarious road Elle and I drove down a few hours before. I averted my gaze from Mom and focused on the black creatures slowly and lazily making their way towards us...werewolves. Zombie werewolves? Zombie werewolves in human clothing? One of them was wearing a beanie.

"Is that Charlie?" Sam asked out loud before my thoughts could make the connection. Who was once a tall, lanky awkward 15 year old turned into a.... tall and lanky werewolf. Mom failed to notice her were-son; her eyes were closed and the headphone volume was turned to the max. The werewolves were less than 10 yards away now, seemingly walking with no end destination in mind. I grabbed Sam and rushed towards the visitor center. The werewolves diverted their direction from aimless to us. They seemed unbothered by the music listeners' presence, and instead were more focused on Sam and me. They were hungry for our fear.

"RUN!" My fight or flight kicked in and I bolted from the werewolves, up the treacherous path Elle's car barely made down, and onto the road. Sam was shortly behind me in this open terrain - not hidden but hoping the darkness would shield us enough from the werewolves below. Gasping for air and silently contemplating our next move, we stood, frozen with fear, as an old white Ford Mustang slowly crept by. The car lights were off but the driver's face was somehow illuminated. An old dude in a tie-dye bandanna couldn't wipe the too-happy smile off his face, a smile similar to the hikers who greeted Elle and me just hours before. He didn't break eye contact with me as he drove by, his smile growing wider. As he passed us, I heard a pen click click click as if it was right next to my ear.

Then I woke up.

The end.

*in this dream I had a youngest brother named Charlie who looked exactly like Sam but was way taller and skinnier and wore a beanie

**at this point Elle disappeared from my dream, not sure where she went but I know she's ok.

I think I could go deeper and turn this into a longer short story. please share your thoughts and if you would be entertained by a longer version of this :)