We're All Very Simple

I stood at the edge of the forest, my town far enough behind me that the noontime bell was a not even mere flutter in the wind. I stared at rigid rocks that jutted outward and upward from the mossy earth and into the hanging clouds above me. From a distance they were dauntingly mysterious, but these mountains seemed no more impressive than the quarry at the north end of town. They were our protectors, as my mother would say, blessed by our elders with the safeguard of something greater than us. They overlooked a thick and vast forest like an older brother imposing his will on a younger sibling. The trees were always in its shadow, ever present, often overlooked. I'd be more intrigued to explore them if my eyes weren't always set on what was beyond the horizon. That is if we were ever allowed to venture in. The townspeople seemed content with adhering to the rule to never go beyond the limits of our self-made haven, but complacency wasn't a trait of mine. Often, I thought I was the only one that wanted more than what we had, my mother never squandered the chance to remind me that I was a selfish thinker in that sense. Was I selfish? Possibly. But, I always thought there was more benevolence in my outward thinking of how to grow as a community and explore beyond the bounds of our confinement. Yet, I was called an egotistical seventeen year old for suggesting.

I expected the trees would extend up into the mountain but they stopped abruptly, almost in a perfect line. I felt as if I was in purgatory between the forest and the mountain, exposed in a pine needle graveyard. I walked toward the base of the mountain, the needles crunching beneath my boots. Timidly, I reached out and placed my hand upon a protruding ridge just at eye level, I never thought I'd get this far. The sun had just begun to rise from the east, thawing the frost from the night before leaving the rock damp and cold. It felt just like any other wet rock I ever touched. I was unenthused. I looked left then right, I didn't know why. I felt as if there were prying eyes watching as I was breaking some sort of oath for touching it. The autumn morning cold began to set deep into my skin. I yanked the pull strings of my grey wool parka to tighten the hood. Curly black locks of my overgrown hair were forced over my eyes but my sight had grown accustomed to the reoccurring hindrance. My faded black denim trousers were a terrible choice, the air seeping in through the frayed patches. The only thing warm on my body were my feet snugged tightly in my worn, leather boots. I dressed myself the day before when the sun was out and at its strongest. The nights and mornings were always cold in the autumn months, yet I failed to learn my lesson. I wiped the water from the damp rock onto my pants then proceeded to rub my bare hands together to generate heat. The cuffs of my parka were a bit short in length, failing to keep up with my growth spurt over the last six months. I tugged on them to provide a bit of cover to my wrists, but the cloth was already stretched to the point of ripping.

As I rubbed my arms up and down to generate a fragment of heat, a flurry of cracking sticks echoed from my left. Startled, I jolted in the opposite direction, briefly looking back at the chance of something following. I noticed a path, a bit overgrown but traveled enough to suggest it was often used, even with weeds and brush that closed in from the sides. Curiosity got the best of me as I stopped retreating. I crept closer, noticing a track at my feet. The treads were a bit obscure but I recognized it as some sort of footwear. I crouched and sat atop my heels. I ran my fingers across the print, the dirt unsettled and loose to the touch. It was fresh, someone was just there. Panic began to set in, my pulse bounding through my chest. I whipped my head back and forth, struggling to focus my vision. I grabbed the closest stick and gripped it tightly in my hand, waving it around like a sword.

"Wait!" A man's voice urged from the left of me. I swiveled in that direction and held the stick out in front of me. "Wait just a second." A man stepped slowly out from behind a tree, hands high above his head. "I didn't mean to startle you." He was a burly man, thick brown beard peppered with gray that connected to his matching hair. His head was covered by a blue knitted hat with a preposterous ball atop it that bounced with each step. He had an egregiously orange backpack, nothing like the ones we would typically carry in town. The straps were snug around his shoulders, wrinkling his red and black checkered shirt that was tucked into some shade of beige cotton pants.

"Who are you? Why were you hiding?" I asked impatiently, locking my arm at the elbow and pointing the stick toward his head. The stick seemed smaller and less threatening than when I first picked it up, but I still held it proudly.

"One question at a time," he chuckled. "I was just relieving myself, if you know what I mean? Been out here awhile."

"Who are you?" I asked again, ignoring his last statement. He put both hands down, then held his left out to greet me.

"I'm Jones, nice to meet you." I could tell he was being sarcastic but he still held his hand out as he respectfully smiled. "Honestly, I'm just a hiker, I mean no harm. I've met a lot of people up on this trail but no one quite like you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I questioned. I hadn't realized that my arm loosened and the stick began to lower. I quickly raised it again, my knuckles becoming as white as snow from my strengthening grip. Jones didn't seem too bothered by it although he did pull back his hand. He took one of the straps off his shoulder and then shimmied the other until the backpack hit the ground.

"Wanna bite?" He reached into the front pocket of his pack and pulled out a clear bag of assorted nuts and raisins. "I always stop right here to fuel up before I continue on." He opened the bag and began shuffling the assortment into the palm of his hand. He gestured toward me once again with a full hand and I said no. I wish I hadn't because I was awfully hungry. The sight of food alone was enough to make me salivate. He turned his back to me and walked into the clearing. He devoured his portion in one mouthful and began chewing incessantly.

"I'm good, thanks," I lied, belly grumbling. “It's George, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, George."

I proceeded toward him, an unusual trust beginning to grow for this strange man.

"I absolutely love it out here," he proclaimed. He looked toward me, seemingly acknowledging my attempt to approach him by waving me over. "So talk to me, kid. You have quite the getup there."

"This?" I asked puzzled, pulling on the front of my shirt. "I mean, its not my nicest outfit, but..."

"You just have a quirky style, is all. I dig it." He laughed as he adjusted the crotch of his pants.

"To each his own," I muttered, giving his outfit a onceover. We both stood there for a moment admiring the scenery. I was oddly content. I hadn't a clue what I was looking for when I went against my community's sacred decree but even though Jones was not an answer, it was something different. "So..." I paused and gulped, hoping not to expose my betrayal, "do they know you’re out?"

"They?" Jones answered, his brows furrowed. "Who's they?"

"Your town, your society, community, whatever you call it?" I didn't think my question was that outlandish but his face suggested otherwise. My mother told me that there were places like ours, far away and equally secluded. The kids who snuck out were never seen again. I always questioned the permanence of their disappearance for the purposes of my mother trying to scare me but I never questioned if the outsiders were different. I assumed everyone was like us.

"You mean Virginia?" Jones chuckled. "Kid, I may be far from home but I ain't from no society." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out what looked to be a metal rectangle. It appeared useless until he held it up to his face and it lit up like a lantern in a tavern. I shuffled back and gasped. He gave me a sidelong look then held the glowing block toward me. I buried my chin to my shoulder then crossed my hands over the side of my face to block any incoming light.

"Get that away from me!" I yelped. I attempted to give it a quick look but the brightness blinded me. Or, so I thought it did out of pure fear. I slowly brought my hands down from my face and stared at the thing. I couldn't take my eyes off it. As I studied it, it wasn't just a light, it had numbers on it and a drawing of Jones standing atop a mountain cliff but with such accuracy and clarity that it may as well have been real.

"Have you never seen one of these? He inquired. I went to touch the lit surface with my finger but as I began to feel a subtle radiating heat from it, that I pulled back. "It won't bite."

"What is it?" I demanded. I didn't mean to sound hostile but it was unlike anything I have ever seen.

"Its a phone, George," he answered sarcastically. He grinned and pulled the phone back toward him. With the touch of his fingers, the surface began to change.

"Wait, where is the painting of you?" I blurted out.

"You mean this?" He flicked his fingers again over the surface and just like that, he was back to standing on the cliff. I don't know why I was so excited to see him standing there, frozen on a tiny, metal block. I suppose I was infatuated with the artwork.

"Ain't a painting. Its a picture." He held the backside of the block toward me. The sudden flash of a light spooked me to the point I almost fell. I think he realized how stunned I was as he quickly apologized. "Look, this is you." On the surface was me, face a bit distorted from fear but it was me. Same pale hairless face with dark hair, and brown eyes. It was like looking in a mirror except the reflection didn't move with me. "And this..." he paused for a bit as he wondrously switched pictures to what looked to be a far away view of a mountain range. "This is Robinson Mountain, kid. We're around here somewhere, in the lesser ranges. We're in Montana." He clicked the side of the block and the picture disappeared. "There's a heck of a whole lot out here that I'm guessing you haven't seen. Man oh man, I envy you. Social Media goes down for a day and all of us are lost. Its like we can't function as people anymore. Its kinda funny to see, " he laughed to himself and put his hands on his hips, "but its brutally sad at the same time. Let me guess, never heard of it?"

"What do you think?" I retorted. "I don't have the slightest clue what you're talking about." My gleeful curiosity was gone in a flash and anguish settled deep in my stomach. I half expected to wake up in my bed and this all be a dream, but I wasn't childish enough to attempt a pinch to wake myself. I hunched over and sat down on the ground, the dampness of the pine needles saturating the butt of my pants. Jones took a less abrasive approach to sitting, brushing out a spot for himself before plopping down next to me. He sighed, then put his arm around me.

"Is this okay?" He asked. I nodded my head yes. "I'm typically more outgoing than most folks so I want to make sure. I'm also good at reading people and can tell you need a friend right now." I shrugged my shoulders then buried my head into my arms that I rested upon my knees. "You could be playing a joke on me right now, but I feel you're not. Just your sheer reaction to my phone would've won an award for someone yanking my chain. I ain't your guide and not some sign from the universe but I can certainly tell you this; Whatever you're looking for, whatever questions you need answered...well, they're right back that way." He pointed toward the path where I first found him. "I typically take my journey another two days but I think this encounter was enough to cut it short. We have a days trip and I'm looking to get started. There's a good spot by a pond to setup camp once the night begins to set in."

A bit of eagerness crept in and I smiled as I looked down the path and the possibilities ahead. But then I looked back in the direction of my home and quivered. It was everything I knew, everything that shaped me but also what kept me from flourishing. I set out here for the purpose of finding more, yet I balked at the opportunity to seek it.

"I can't," I responded. I pushed the hood from my head and ran my shaky hands through my hair. "I knew there was something more. I so badly want to see it but I need to be home, its where I belong. I'm... I'm scared. I'm actually scared of the unknown for the first time in my life."

"I get it, kid. We're all very simple when it comes to comfort. Where I'm from, I have endless amounts of things that can pull me away from some form a reality. Yet, my home is out here in the wilderness. I...," he stopped for a second to belch into his hand. "Sorry, a bit gassy. I'm all worked up. Where was I? Oh, yes. The point I'm getting at is that we all seek some sort of level of comfort in things. Its okay to want that, there's no shame. You wanna go back home, go back home. My friends think I'm crazy for coming out here once a year just to go hiking but its my happy place."

"And you're not lying to me, right?" I asked reluctantly. I didn't think he was but my mind could still not process what I saw or what I was hearing.

Jones shook his head and smiled. "C'mon now, I may be a son of a gun but I ain't no liar." He pushed himself off the ground, then offered to pull me up. I sat there for a second but then grabbed his hand and pulled myself to my feet. "Like I said, everything is back that way. It doesn't have to be me that shows you. Heck, it could be anyone or you just go your own way. I want to help but telling you lies don't benefit me one bit." He started back toward the forest where his backpack was. For a rather large man, it seemed like a struggle to hoist the orange monstrosity back over his shoulders. He grunted like my father did when he sat up from a chair after a heavy meal. "I'm gonna head back now. Just meeting you filled my quota for this trip, I ain't got nothing left to see here."

"So, you're just heading back now? That's it?" I questioned angrily.

"I'm not gonna force you. I'm also not gonna make you do anything you don't want. Us hikers are always up for hitching our wagons to groups we find along the way, but you don't seem like someone looking for that sorta company. Now if you change your mind, follow the path. You can't go wrong, its pretty worn down. It'll direct you to where you need to go. You have a good day now, kid. And remember what I said, there ain't no shame in where you find comfort, we're all very simple in that regard. For good reason too, we need that otherwise we ain't finding the strength to discover the unknown."

I had so much I wanted to say but like he said, Jones disappeared in the thick forest. I just stood there, seemingly for hours, staring down the path. Straight ahead was something new and back toward the west was something old and established. "We're all very simple," I muttered to myself, purposely mocking the burly man. I started toward home but a force inside pulled me back. I tried to ignore it but I couldn't. I so badly wanted to see my mother, she must've been worried sick. But then again, I was afraid to face the consequences of my actions. I thought myself a coward but then reminded myself that no one had ever done what I've done. A coward wouldn't venture out here with no sustainable plan, no intention to see passed the next day. A stupid person would do that, but I was okay with being stupid. I stood at the edge of the path, embracing the unknown.