The floor smells of rotting leaves, soft soil, and bits of blood. Shards of the dead leaves stick to the fresh cuts across his face. Around him is a blur. Colors of green, brown, and slivers of grey smudge together. A slight sight of blue emerges in the background. “That must be the sky,” Tristen Wolfton thought to himself. Laughter echoes in the distance while the sounds of birds’ wings send pings of pain throughout his head. As he slowly props himself up, all around goes black. He holds on for the moment until his blurred vision returns. It becomes clearer as he sits against the giant oak. A large rock, almost a boulder, sits bloody to his right. Leaves and broken sticks lay beneath him, some still sticking to his wet face. His blood drips to the ground, from both his head and the rock.
He touches his face and forehead to feel how bad the wound is. It feels as if his head has been split wide open. He can fit the tip of his pinkie between the two flaps of skin. From this thought, he becomes light headed. He is unsure what has happened, why he is here, what he was doing. He shuts his eyes for a moment, but dizziness takes over, so he reopens them quickly. He turns his head slightly to the left at the blur of a squirrel scurrying by. Finally, he sees something to jog his memory; the outline of a bike, his bike to be exact. “Am I on Rocky Curb?” He thinks to himself, trying to figure out his location. He faintly remembers leaving his house; his wife, Christy, left in a pool of anger as he headed towards the trails to let off some steam. He felt the dampness beneath him, slowly remembering the difficulty of the trails this afternoon.
He tries to move towards his bent and broken bike but slips down the small slope beside him. Once he catches his footing he rises to his wobbly legs. He steps slowly to his bike to examine the damage. It is ruined. He delicately falls beside it, letting himself rest.
The leaves begin to sway strongly in the trees as the wind starts to pick up. The air smells of coming rain and sounds of thunder stir in the distance. His unsteadiness will not disperse so walking home is hardly an option. He suddenly hears the crunching of leaves beneath a foot and realizes the sound is coming closer. His body becomes tense with worry that grows with his knowledge that there are bears and wolves on this mountain. He keeps his eyes peeled towards the noise, ready to put up whatever battle he can, given his condition. A figure appears from behind the blur of many trees, though he is still uncertain what is approaching him.
“Tristen? Oh, my God. Are you okay?” a voice finally speaks. It is a familiar voice; his good friend Ron. He can see another figure approaching and realizes he was biking with his two riding buddies, Ron and Alden. Memories slowly come back to him about the path. It was difficult to ride today due to the hurricane that just passed through.
“Yeah, I… I don’t know. My bike… my head… is cut,” Tristen tried to spit some words out.
“Just sit back. You’re bleeding pretty bad, man. We’re gonna have to call the ambulance. Did you bring your cell, Ron?” Alden asked in a tone covered by concern. Ron searched his pockets and pulled out his cell phone. Alden took his over shirt off to wrap around Tristen’s head and hopefully slow the bleeding. Ron called the ambulance while Alden attempted to patch Tristen up. Tristen, loosing lots of blood, was feeling slightly delusional. The words they spoke around him began to slur into nothing that made sense. Trees looked as if they were falling towards the ground and the sky became black. He looked towards the mid-day sky and saw the moon, full and orange. A lightning storm formed around it, as if it was happening outside of the Earth and in the atmosphere surrounding the moon. “What the…? What is going on?” he questioned as he closed his eyes and felt his head fall back into Alden’s hand.
“Tristen… Tris…”
He delayed moving from his bed, looking at the unfamiliar walls. His wife’s arm was wrapped around him. “Where did all our pictures go?” he puzzled. He scratched his head and felt a large bandage wrapping fully around his skull. He thought the accident had been a dream, but when he looked at his hand still covered in blood, he knew it was real. Sitting up too quickly, he blacked out while a vision of the blood covered rock flashed through his mind.
He walked down the hallway that used to be covered in family pictures, but now was bare. Once in the bathroom, he looked in the mirror to see a mangled face. His heart stopped for a moment as he observed the stranger in the mirror. He had a five o’clock shadow, which never happened for him. He was always clean shaven for his teaching job at the local high school. One of his eyes was now brown, rather than blue. His cheekbone was swollen and looked as if he had a tumor growing there. As he looked in shock, his wife came up behind him. Her hands were weathered, not the hands he once knew. She wrapped them around his torso saying, “I’m loving this new look, hunny. I’ve never really seen you with facial hair before. Let’s go back to bed. Adam is still sleeping you know,” she hinted kissing behind his ear. He was in no state to mess around, though. As he was about to deny her, he was saved by the cry of their young son, Adam. They both sighed and she walked out the door to attend to the baby.
“I’ve never heard him cry that way before. Everything feels so strange. What day is it?” he thought to himself, feeling confused, as he walked towards the kitchen. A white board hung on the fridge with the duties for the day, given the date. It was July 21st. He looked in disbelief. He couldn’t remember the last week. He sat down as the blackness returned to him as whispers flooded his escaping mind.
Happy birthday, honey. Another…
Dad, can you hear me? Dad, I...
Several weeks had passed while his wounds healed. He still suffered some blackouts but it was getting better. The day was filled with sunshine and a cool breeze, perfect for a bike ride. He had rode a few times with his new bike on level ground but was feeling an itch for the mountain once more. He set out for Rocky Curb again, with Ron and Alden joining to make sure nothing happened.
He rode carefully down the slopes and over the roots of tall trees. When he came to the corner where he had spilled last time he slowed right down to a stop. Not because he was scarred but because he wanted to observe the area. He still did not remember how it all happened, just the things he saw after the accident. He walked to the rock which was still stained slightly red. A chill shot down his spine as he noticed a bright white light between the oak and the rock. Ron came walking up behind him, making sure everything was okay.
“Man, that was really scary. Luckily it was just a little concussion though, right?” he said as he shoved his elbow to Tristen’s, trying to make a bit of a joke. Tristen smiled.
“Do you see that light there? Next to the rock.” he asked with a slight worry in his voice. He had been seeing strange things lately that others weren’t. He hoped this wasn’t one of them. He was sick of looking crazy to his family and friends.
“What light? You mean the sun rays touching there?” Ron replied as Alden came walking up to them.
“Examining the scene, huh?” Alden interrupted before Tristen could agree it was just sun rays, though that was not at all what he was seeing.
“Yeah, I just wanted to see the spot. It was kinda blurry last time I was here,” Tristen said with a chuckle. It was easier to make a joke out of the situation that happened.
After finishing the ride, Tristen felt rejuvenated, but couldn’t stop thinking about that white light. “Have I lost all sanity? “ he questioned. He couldn’t make sense of the things he’d heard or seen. He knows better than to really believe his dog, Bob, could speak to him or that there were lightning storms in his room and circling the moon that never left the sky. He felt the answers may lie within that light. The image of that light swelling from beneath the rock blanked out his vision as he heard loud ringing and voices.
“Tristen, can you hear me? Come back to me, hunny. Come ba…”
Tristen was walking alone up Rocky’s Ledge when he realized he had no recollection of getting there. He was almost to the white light by the rock though, and he knew he wanted to examine the area. Once he approached it, it looked as though it had gotten bigger. He set down his backpack and kneeled in front of the white hole. It was so bright it was hard to look into, but he couldn’t look away. He shifted his head slightly, trying to reduce his blindness as he proceeded to put his hand through the hole. He shoved his whole arm, up to his shoulder, down the white light’s throat, but felt no end. He pulled back, confused.
“What could this possibly be? I don’t know that I dare look inside. I wouldn’t be able to see anyways. I don’t think… maybe I have to look in. Maybe I will understand,” he thought, trying to talk himself into proceeding into the unknown. He cautiously stuck his head straight into the white light, leaning forward trying to peer down into its depths. He opened his eyes to see a blur of lights, ceiling lights; the long ones that hang in schools and hospitals. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision as he heard a familiar voice.
“Tristen!? Oh my God, Tristen, hunny? He opened his eyes! Call the nur…” the voice blurred out. He pulled his head up quickly, unsure of what he just saw and heard. He looked around the forest. No one was in sight. “What do I do? What do I do?” he repeated to himself. He had no explanation, only curiosity. He wanted to jump right into the light, discover what was in there, who was calling his name. He thought for a moment, trying to reason the possibilities, weigh out the risks and benefits. “I need to understand. I can’t keep living this way. I have to,” he started to tell himself. He looked into the light with fear filling his dark brown eyes, and dove.
