The Sun Went Down Some Time Ago

The sun went down some time ago. I can’t remember when.

I'm always nervous, but this fire is warm.

There were poplar trees beyond the camp before. Now there are shadows in the twilight. The tree limbs creak as they bend to the wind and some reach down to tickle my tent. I hope they’re still tree limbs.

There are things out there, snapping twigs and shifting the darkness, but for now they're at bay. 

I’ll stay by the fire. I'll be alright.

To pass the time I sit on this log and think about home. The white farmhouse with the red barn at the end of the pasture where my dog waits. When I get there I'll scratch him behind the ears. Inside, somewhere upstairs, I'll hear the creak of footsteps on the old floorboards. She'll call out: "Is there a stranger in the house?" and I'll smile and say: "Intruder!" Then I'll see her face: tanned skin and sun bleached hair, slanted smile and bright green eyes. She’ll look down from the banister at the top of the stairs.

If I'm still home, then I never left.

That's how I pass the time as I stare into the fire.

When the morning light arrives and the poplar trees come back I'll move on, keeping the eastern sun on my right ear. Someday I’ll get out of these woods. Someday--

A drop of rain lands on the back of my neck. 

Is there a stranger in the house?

The shadows sway in the breeze.

Then something crashes through the dry underbrush behind me. I look that way, but I don't see--

Another drop, this one on my forearm. Goosebumps line to my shoulder.

The rain starts to fall and the fire hisses.

That thing in the darkness is quiet, waiting.

I'm up, tossing my blanket in my pack. I leave my tent behind me, put on my hat and glance at the drowning fire.

Go!

I grab my flashlight and point it toward the tall poplar I used as a marker to set up camp. Away from the sounds in the darkness.

Go!

I run into the woods, stumble, stop and listen. Crash, snap from behind, like an echo. It's following me.

I try to think about the farmhouse at the end of the pasture. A wagging tail and her face at the banister. There's a stranger in the house.

I can make it out. I can get home again.

So I run, but my legs are blind. Something thrashes in the woods to my right and feet pound the ground to my left. Something else cries in the night, a lonely howl.

Just go. Think about the farmhouse and go.

I come to a river and moonlight reflects off its surface. I stop to notice the rain letting up. The clouds have cleared and the moon is full. 

This current is too fast to cross. Which river is this? Which way is north?

No matter now. Pick a direction and go.

I turn to my right, following the current.

A tree branch snaps ahead. I try to stop but slip in the mud and drop my flashlight.

No!

I shut my eyes, cover my ears and shake my head. If it wants to come and get me, now is the time.

An owl hoots to my right. The river roars to my left. And I'm still standing.

Take a moment. Breathe. Come up with a plan. 

I set down my bag, bend over and feel for the light. When I find it I'll point it in the direction of the farmhouse.

I’m fine.

As I open my eyes again I see darkness. Clouds have covered the moon. The river is hiding.

Something scurries away. Something else approaches from behind and knocks on a tree, crying out like a jackal: 

"GO! GO! GO!" 

Then it, too, runs away, its cries softening in the distance.

"Go! Go! Go!"

I don’t like these woods.

The flashlight was right there. Why did I have to drop it? Why did I have to come here? 

Why did I have to leave?

My hands move mud, hoping for the cold touch of metal.

The underbrush shakes behind me. The river is loud. It's all so much. It's all too much.

I back up a step and my foot slips into a drop off. My other leg fails and I can't catch myself.

I grasp at the air as I fall.

The moon comes back out.

I close my eyes and drop into the river. 

This is it. I'll never feel any of it again: the morning sun lifting dew off the pasture. A wet dog returning from his run through the field. Chickens in the barn. A hot coffee brought to me on the porch by the woman I love. No plans for the day but to watch it pass by. Together.

As I hit the water, something emerges from the woods.

Then I'm under. The cold is piercing. My skin is numb and my blood feels like it’s on fire. The current is strong so I tumble and strike a rock with my hip.

I’m blind down here, but I see stars and a white farmhouse as I slip away.

The darkness descends like rain, blotting out the farm, blotting out the stars in my eyes until a hand grabs me by the arm and pulls me out of the water. It drags me up the bank, back into the darkness, back into the woods. It stops for a moment, but I can't fight it. I don't want to. I keep my eyes closed and it picks me up, hoisting me over its shoulders.

It runs and I hold on. Its skin feels like fiberglass but I don't think about anything now. 

After a while it lets me go. I fall to my knees, dry again. I open my eyes and let tears fall to the detritus.

There's a light nearby -- a fire next to a big poplar tree. And my tent. My pack leans on a nearby stump and my flashlight sticks out the side pocket.

Twigs snap behind me as the creature slinks back into the darkness.

I don’t know how to leave this place.

The sun went down some time ago. I can’t remember when.

I'm always nervous, but this fire is warm.