An Old Friend

Warning: mild bloody imagery

I finally arrived at the small wooden cabin at the top of the mountain where Jay and I were hiking two years ago. I couldn’t help but recall the incident in my head–his broken legs, his screams of pain, the blood on his clothes and on my hands. I almost stopped at the base of the mountain, thinking about what had happened almost caused me to break down right then and there. He had been my closest friend for many, many years, and to see him die in my arms had, admittedly, traumatized me.

I can still remember the funeral. The sterilized smell of the funeral home, the droves of people clad in black suits and dresses, the soothing jazz music that Jay always listened to was playing, pictures of him throughout his life were flashing on the television screens in the room with the casket. I can still remember seeing the pictures of him on one of the screens–some of them with me standing next to him–and watching a timelapse of a young boy with pitch-black hair transform into a tall man with the same hair and a little bit of a beard. Time stood still as I recalled moments in the time that he was alive. We helped each other in our darkest times, we let each other vent to the other, and we offered advice to each other. The funeral was one of the darkest moments in my life, but I had no one to help me go through that, because he was not there.

Climbing the mountain that we swore to go up was a form of closure for me. Jay always mentioned a cabin that he knew about at the top of the mountain. He mentioned once how he had been there once. He talked about how quiet it was, how peaceful it was, with the only noise that you could hear from the cabin was the wind against the trees, some woodpeckers trying to find a meal, and occasionally the soothing song a mourning dove. It sounded incredible to me the first time he described it. Being able to just relax in a cabin that you worked hard to get to so that you can escape from the everyday life of a big city. We were only 23 years old, we just graduated from college, and we were working some pretty unsavory jobs. Having an opportunity to get away from that felt wonderful.

Finally, I made my way to the cabin that Jay talked about so lovingly when he was alive. The breeze picked up as I got closer to the entrance, and I could hear the sweet song of a mourning dove. I opened the door to the cabin, yet there was nothing inside apart from a couple of windows and a picture of an old man holding a child in his arms, seemingly a child and his grandfather. I walked around the small quaint cabin, checking all the rooms, yet I could find nothing. Nothing in the kitchen area, nothing in the bedroom or bathroom, nothing. No furniture, no lighting, no food or drinks, the cabin was completely empty. “There’s nothing here,” I said aloud while standing in the kitchen. I walked back out to what seemed to be the living room with a confused look on my face. I sat down with my back against the wall, wondering why Jay thought so highly of this place. “Is there something I’m missing?” I spoke. As soon as the words left my mouth, some sort of apparition appeared before me. I scrambled to my feet and rubbed my eyes to make sure that I wasn’t hallucinating. No, there was clearly something in front of me.

In a quiet voice, almost like it’s trying not to wake someone up, it said “Hey, you finally made it.” His voice cut through the silence, deep into my psyche. I rubbed my eyes again and shook my head. I looked again, and the apparition was gone. What was that thing? I backed up against the wooden wall and closed my eyes. While catching my breath, I heard the song of the mourning dove once more. It reminded me of when I was a child, playing in the backyard with whatever my then-childlike imagination could think of. I saw Jay in that memory, and I saw him again when I opened my eyes.

I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to believe it, but I couldn’t. I watched him get lowered six feet deep into a graveyard. I wept over his death, again at his funeral, and I felt the tears coming back once more as I saw a shape that looked like him right in front of me. It wore the same clothes he did when he died–black climbing shorts, a blue baseball cap, a dark red sweatshirt, and a backpack with all sorts of things that he thought we might have needed on the hike. I remember it all very clearly, especially the fact that the blood blended in with his sweatshirt. I couldn’t even tell how much blood he had lost until I put my hand on his chest.

“Don’t go rubbing your eyes again, Sam. It’s me. It’s Jay,” the ghost said. I couldn’t help but feel like I was hyperventilating. Was the low air pressure in the cabin getting to me? Did I get enough sleep the night before? Have I had anything to eat today? My line of thinking was interrupted when the thing claiming to be Jay spoke once more. “Are you okay?” he said. “Am I okay?” I mumbled. “You’re asking if I am okay? Are you serious? Are you really Jay?” “Yes, it’s me. There aren’t many people that know about this place, you know. Only five or so people, including you, me, and my grandpa, who actually built this place. Even hung a picture himself and me when I was a baby on the wall behind you, to commemorate when he finished this place.” Jay walked over to the picture and put his hand on it, seemingly reminiscing about the day that picture was taken. He then walked over to one of the windows and spoke again. “Quiet place, right? We talked about how nice this place would’ve been to get away from our responsibilities for a bit. Just sitting up here, listening to the sounds of nature. It’s so...ethereal.”

I finally regained my composure after hearing Jay talk about the cabin for a little bit. “Jay, are you really here?” I spoke. “How many times do I have to say it? It’s really me. How else would I know that you know about this place? Because I told you. Well, when I was still alive, anyway. Before the accident.” “Don’t remind me.” “Don’t remind you? I’m the one that slipped in some mud and kept rolling down the mountain, hitting stuff and breaking my legs until I hit the stream.” “I know, it was a freak accident. You always were notoriously unlucky.” We stopped talking for what felt like an eternity, as we both stood still and listened to the wind wisping away the leaves on the trees. “So, how are you here?” I spoke. “I have no idea,” Jay said. “I think it’s got something to do with unfinished business. You know, a ghost can’t fully pass on until they’ve finished their business, that sort of thing.” “What kind of unfinished business?” “Well, I died while taking you here, so I’m sure you can connect the two.”

Almost as if by instinct, I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out a picture of the two of us standing side by side as kids. We were both smiling and covered in dirt. Jay turned around and saw the picture that I was holding. “Can I see that?” he said. I handed the picture to him, and he stared at it, clearly both sad yet happy to see it. “My mom got so mad after I got back from playing at your house, she told me to immediately get in the shower and scrub every inch of dirt off of me.” I chuckled a little bit. “Your mom was always stricter than mine.” “Yeah, you’re telling me.” Tears started to form in his eyes. “I miss her, though. She always knew what was best for me. She even told me that this mountain is dangerous. I hate to admit it, but she was right.”

Jay looked back towards me, with a questioning look on his face. “Why did you come here?” he said. I paused for a moment before responding. “Closure, I guess. I wanted to see this place that you thought so highly of. I never expected to find you here,” I said. “Well, what do you think?” “Honestly, it’s probably the most soothing place on earth.” “I told you so,” he said with a grin on his face.

“It was good seeing you again, Sam. I’m glad I got to see you one more time,” Jay said. “I think you being here was the unfinished business I mentioned. I can feel myself getting lighter.” I looked directly at him as he said that. “So, this is it, huh?” I spoke. I felt like I had gone limp, it was hard to move my muscles around. I didn’t want to see him leave again. “Yeah, this is it. Thank you for coming here, it means a lot.” He walked towards the door, picture still in hand. “Hey, do you mind if I keep this?” he said as he raised the picture up so I could see it. “Go ahead.” He nodded at me as a way of saying thank you. Before I could say anything else, he waved goodbye, and vanished into thin air. I was left alone once more, with only my thoughts and the sounds of the mountain to keep me company.

The sun was beginning to set, so with a heavy sigh and a feeling of a lifted burden, I climbed back down the mountain, to the town where I belong. Suddenly, my phone started ringing. The mountain had no cellular service, and as a result, I was bombarded by a wall of text messages from friends and family. My girlfriend called me, and I answered.

“Sam?!” she said, in a worried voice. “Sam? Are you ok? Where are you? Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick all day!” After a brief moment, I replied. “I just went on a nature walk, that’s all.”