My friend Conor has had a tough past couple of weeks. Even at the best of times, he’s more than a little mentally shaken from past traumas and current stresses but never to the point he was at tonight. For the last month he’s been slowly moving out of a too small and cramped house that he claimed was making him sick, giving him nightmares, and worse: someone was following him back to when he would walk along the trail through the woods that cut around town and was the quickest way back to his house after getting off work around nine p.m.
He’s been telling me for days now about how every night when he’d walk along the almost blackout path, that he would hear something walking with him and keeping pace. That he could never see it, only smell the stink of its’ rotted skin as the wind caught it. Only hear it’s raspy, wheezy sort of breath as it endlessly followed him. And how the sounds and smell would only stop once he cleared the trees and was into streetlight again.
I feel bad for the poor guy. His mothers been sick and so has he. And between the stress of juggling his health, a job, his mothers health, and a move all at once, I don’t really blame him for thinking something that terrifying was happening to him. But I live along the trail he walks, and have for five years. I know it well enough that even though my glasses broke a few months ago and in the dark I’m basically walking blind; I can still navigate perfectly well by the muscle memory and feel of the road beneath my sandals. I know when and were to step to avoid a tree root pushing its’ way through the dirt. And I’ve never seen, smelled, or heard such a creature. Especially not one that smelled like a rotting body left out in the sun.
Tonight was the last big night before he could officially move into his new house and he asked me to come by to help him move his drum set from the upstairs to the downstairs in order to make it easier for the movers tomorrow. I agreed and when I left to walk the twenty minutes to his house, the sun was already beginning to set. By the time I got there, it was dark. But it didn’t take long to move the set and pack a few more boxes before taking a break to smoke.
“I’ve got to get out of here, man,” He told me as he fumbled with his pockets and I offered him my lighter instinctually. He took it, nodded in thanks, and lit his cigarette with trembling hands before tossing it back to me. I lit my own and waited for him to continue.
“I mean it. I have to get the fuck out of here. I can’t take much more of– Whatever the fuck is going on.”
“Yeah.” I supplied unhelpfully, not wanting to make matters worse by indulging his fears or dismissing them. “Hopefully things will be better at the new place.”
I nudged the ashtray closer to him and he barely seemed to notice it. He was looking down, almost directly at the floor.
“You’re the only one who still listens to what I say.” He admits at length and is definitely avoiding eye contact with me now, something he did when he felt he were under an incredible amount of pressure. “Nobody else does anymore. I swear, dude, the fucking smell off of this thing.. It makes me feel sick. Like, actually sick.”
“You’re my friend,” I countered and this felt more like the truth. Even if I didn’t understand it, this ‘thing’ was real enough to him and I cared that he was so upset and shaken over it. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah. Of course.” This answer came without hesitation and I saw the first glimmer of a real smile on his face, finally. The conversation eased to other topics and before long it was close to midnight. I wished my friend a good night and a good sleep (that he clearly and desperately needed) and started my walk home. The sky was clouded over and blocked out the moon and when I reached the end of the streetlights, the woods looked denser and darker than ever.
I walked quickly as a sudden and unwelcome feeling of being watched settled over my shoulders. I told myself I was just too focused on the grimmer details of life, that I was taking in too much of my friends fantasy, and that everything was going to be alright.
I had only made it ten steps into the darkness when a horrible smell reached me and nearly knocked me to my knees. My eyes burned as I gagged and coughed and fought the urge to retch. I squinted at the darkness and just barely managed to see through the haze of blurriness..
Two pale and unblinking eyes staring right back at me.