‘Just do it, Jerry!’ Brandon sneered.
‘I–I can’t’ Jerry retorted, legs quivering as he stood over the ledge of the bridge. ‘It’s too high–I’m scared…’
‘All the guys do it Jerry. You want to be cool like us, don’t you? You don’t wanna get into seventh grade and be the only kid who hasn’t jumped into the river, do you?’
‘N-no. I don’t t-think so.’
‘Then jump!’
Jerry could feel the fear culminate inside him; his feet were frozen in place while his legs were buckling like a bunch of beams made out of plywood, unable to support the weight of what was on top. The butterflies in his stomach didn’t help either.
What would they think of me? He thought to himself, I want to fit in, I don’t want to be bullied anymore…But it’s so high! No way can I do this!
Jerry turned around in an attempt to dissuade Brandon from encouraging the act. ‘Brandon, I can’t do this! I want to go home! I want–‘ The next thing he knew, he found himself falling off the bridge. Brandon had pushed him. Without his consent. Brandon had pushed him and now Jerry could see him chortling as he loomed over the bridge, both becoming distant by the second.
At least nobody saw me pee myself, he thought.
As he plunged into the water, he felt the cold assail his body piercing past the dermis and into his very marrow. He swam his way back to the surface of the water, with great difficulty, gasping for air as he emerged.
Panicked, helpless, and afraid, Jerry tried to find something to grasp onto as he struggled to keep himself from drowning. “He–help! Brandon Help!” He cried. It was to no avail, the current had pushed him a great distance away from bridge, far from the reach of anyone.
He felt a throbbing pain in his head, and sense of calm soon afterwards. Jerry was losing consciousness as he entered a state of learned helplessness. He had given up. No one would come to help him, he thought.
it was all Brandon’s fault…
All the anger, the fear, and anxiety that he had harbored soon dissipated as he drifted into darkness, the only thing that remained was the cold wetness that had accompanied it.
…
Jerry remained in the dark, and if one were to make a query, he liked it that way. He felt at peace. No one to antagonize him; no need to fit in. For the first time in a long time, he was in solace.
Ever since he moved away things never were the same. The friends that he once had were gone, the distance proved too great to sustain their friendship. To exasperate things, being enrolled in a new school had taken an emotional toll as well—a majority of his peers veered away from him due to their established social hierarchy. He was an outsider, a vagrant.
At least here, in the impermeable darkness he felt marginally better. Though that too would not last. He could already feel his consciousness returning, the river’s rancor assailed his ears, and the rugged hardness of the rocks proved too uncomfortable to remain in his peaceful reverie.
Groaning, he struggled to bring himself to his feet. At least the pain on his head had lessened, though he could still feel a minute trickle of blood run down his temple. At least Brandon isn’t here, he thought.
‘Oh, good. You’re awake!’
Jerry tried to ascertain who had spoken, the voice seemed disembodied, cold. His throat felt cracked and dry, exasperating his efforts to speak. Managing a mutter, he called out, ‘Wh—who’s there? Is that you Brandon?’
‘Nope. It’s just me.‘ said the Voice.
Unable to perpetrate the source, he called out again, ‘Well, who are you then? Where are you?’
‘Well, i’m above you but I don’t think I can answer your other question. I—don’t really know my name.’
Jerry looked above, his natural childish curiosity taking precedence over the fear that would have taken hold. Above him was the source of the voice; a featureless body, ink-black in color. The only thing truly discernible was the whites of its eyes, and what might have been the shagginess of its hair. From the length Jerry presumed the being to be a girl.
‘Are you a spirit?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know…I guess so.’
‘Are you…going to eat me, or something?’
‘Well, no, that’s gross.‘ She chuckled, ‘I don’t know how long I’ve lived here, but it’s been awhile since I’ve met someone like me.‘ She hovered down beside him. The stories that the kids told at school about ghosts and monsters seemed to be false. From first impressions, the spirit was friendly. ‘Do you want to be friends?’
‘I think I’d like that’ Jerry said ‘though I’d like something to call you by.’ He paused ‘What about Willow?’
‘Well, okay, that’s a pretty name. I like that. Thank you.’
Jerry motioned himself over the rocky surface and into the undergrowth, accompanying him was Willow, his new friend. Though the foliage above had blocked out most of the sky, he ascertained it to be approaching dusk as the remnants that he could see varied from a gradient of sepia to a reddish purple.
Willow had gone ahead, beckoning him to a direction that she seemed familiar with. ‘Where are we going?’ Jerry asked.
‘Where I live, most of the time.’
Though it was the middle of summer, the air seemed colder as they neared their destination. As they got closer, Jerry could make out a few anomalies in the surrounding area. Glowing balls of green luminescence floated around them; yellow eyes that seemed cat-like appeared under every bush; and a few of the trees seemed to have faces, nothing macabre, mind you, mostly visages that appeared somber in demeanor.
Jerry thought of himself as abnormal, since most kids around his age would probably wet themselves if they encountered what he had seen. For him it was quite the opposite. He felt relatively safe, the things that followed him were mostly inquisitive, as if he were a new neighbor. He thought himself crazy, but for the most part, he felt welcome.
‘Here it is. Home sweet home.‘ Willow said, hovering over something bent and dirty white in complexion. As Jerry loomed in closer, he made it out to be bone, and from his limited knowledge gathered from his science class—he never paid attention—it appeared to be a knuckle.
He felt something trickle down from his temple and wiped it away, from inspecting his hand he made it out to be blood. This confused Jerry. The cuts and scrapes that he received in the past heal in quite a short span of time. This wound was different; it didn’t hurt, but it was still bleeding.
‘That thing on the floor, that’s me—or what’s left of me.‘ Willow said. From what Jerry could make out, she seemed melancholic.
‘Did you die?’
‘I think so.‘
‘Do you remember what happened.’
‘I just remember fire.‘ She whimpered.’I…remember burning.’
Beside the knuckle was a small puddle of collected dew which trickled from the leaves of a Dogwood tree. Jerry looked into the puddle and saw a whiteness from where he should be standing. His eyes were pure black and on his temple was a small cut that trickled blood. He turned towards his new friend.
‘Willow?’ Jerry asked.
‘Yes.‘ She said, the sadness in her tone permeated around them as they stood in front of each other, the wisps that followed them turned purple in hue and the trees that bore sentience also frowned in melancholy.
In the distance a single, solitary loon could be heard, its birdsong permeated throughout the forest as it searched for something that it so longed for.
‘Am I dead?’
‘I think so.’
‘…’
‘…’
‘Are we really friends?’
‘I hope so. I don’t have any—not like you or me or anything.’ She cried. ’I’ve been alone here for so long.’
Jerry grasped her hand. ‘I’m Jerry, by the way.’ He didn’t feel fear, he didn’t feel any remorse in dying. He wasn’t alone anymore, and, for once, in the cool undergrowth of the forest, he felt at peace. ‘Let’s be friends.’
Willow smiled. ‘I’d like that.’
Summerlad 