(continued from 2.5.1)
I've been wondering about the difference between something memorable and something haunting.
"Interesting," Luís said. "Tell me more."
"There are so many things I want to remember," Shea said, squinting into the setting sun. "And there are some things that won't leave me alone."
The sun winked below the curve of the mountain and a rush of cold air swept the trail. Shea looked suddenly small, and Luís got the strange and sudden sense that she spent most of her time trying to appear bigger than she felt.
She didn't look at Luís when she said, "I think you're haunted. Like I am."
The observation froze him to the bone; he stopped walking, and Shea, patient, stood beside him.
Most people could see that Luís was broken. That he was empty in a way he couldn't explain to his parents. The world had poked a hole in him. He had been born with a crack in the bottom of his foot. He was leaking; he hadn't found a way to fill himself up.
He was always moving in the effort to find what was missing. There was a strand attached to the center of his chest and it was always pulled taut. It kept him moving forward, kept him putting one foot in front of the other, but it never slackened. There was always a pull from his center beckoning him toward something, and he didn't know what his tether was attached to, he just knew he hadn't found it yet. Sometimes he wondered if that was where his depression came from, but no. That was a simple quirk of brain chemistry abated by medication.
His train of thought was interrupted by a furious voice from behind them.
"Hey. Hey. You can't be here."
A light washed over them and they both stilled. Luís was used to being caught in flashlights when stargazing, night-hiking, setting up solo camp near some skittish party. Usually, it would swing across his eyes and he'd throw a hand over his face and the flashlight-holder would whisper "oops, sorry!" and quickly cast their beam down. This is not what happened. The light hovered steadily over Luís's eyes and he peered sideways around his fingers. He could make out dark pants and not-for-hiking shoes. A hand, shoulder-level, holding a flashlight up against his shoulder like a club. Not a security guard. Just a guy.
"What are you kids doing up here?" the guy asked. His voice was nasally and his tone was snide; his singsong sentence peaked on the word doing and hovered for a second.
Oh. Wait. Luís recognized this man, now that he was closer. It was the dad of one of his old friends. He'd taken their prom photos, before he and his friends had skipped prom and gone drinking out on the bleachers by the football field.
"Just going to check out the stars," Luís said. He wasn't sure if he was hoping to be recognized or not.
"Okay," Mr. Chambers said. "This is private property."
"We're just going to the top of the hill," Luís said. "That's not private property."
"Our parents live in the neighborhood," Shea said, pointing vaguely downhill.
"I don't care," the guy said. "If they don't live here–" he waved the flashlight around "– then you're on someone else's property."
The flashlight shone on the inert equipment and a car, idling on a freshly constructed dirt-packed road. The car's interior lights were on and the door was open; this man must've just been on his way down the hill. Beside the car, a skeletal frame rose from the ground over the trail. If Shea and Luís had kept going a short ways, they would've walked right through the soon-to-be living room.
"Understood," Shea said. "We'll find somewhere else to go. Sorry, sir."
Luís hesitated a moment but Shea was already walking back the way they came.
"Weren't you here to, like, do something?" Luís asked when he caught up with her. "We're just going to leave?"
He looked to the left where the mountain sloped upward. If they just went off into the woods... they'd already trespassed to get here, hadn't they?
They could go around the house.
Shea followed his gaze but she didn't move. And because she didn't move, Luís didn't move. Shea stared pensively off and said, "I don't want to be the reason they put up a better fence."
"... fuck. Alright. Yeah."
"My plan is still the same," Shea said, readjusting her ponytail. "Get to the top when that guy isn't around. There are other nights. Can I walk you home? I don't feel like being alone at the moment."
YOU ARE READING
Closer to the Sun || A Fairy Tale on Hiking Trails
Fantasy🌲 🦊 🐭 Campbell was ten the first time he turned into a mouse. The only person he could tell was his best friend Shea, but on that same day, she vanished into thin air. And when she returned, she was... different. They both were. They'd seen place...
