Bodies

I walked down the dreary, wooded path that day with no expectation of anything abnormal or unfamiliar to me, as I knew the route I took with great familiarity. The trees were still dead from the long winter and only few had begun to show sprouts of life. My feet were covered in mud and as I watched the stream flow besides me, I knew its waters had flooded the wet ground I walked upon a day prior. Certainly, this is why I walked the path alone, not seeing another person for miles until him.

When reaching a large bridge which separated a highway from the path I walked, atop of the hill were three large, white plastic bags, each of similar size. Tired, I continued walking wishing I had brought a friend along or at least a bottle of water. Since I had expected to take the shorter path back to my house that day, I did not wear shoes properly equipped for the length of my walk. My feet, too, were tired and I wanted to get home immediately. As I grew further and further from the sight of the large white bags, my wonder of what the plastic hid continued to grow. 

Forgetting the aches of my feet and body, I turned back deciding to look once again at the bags. There were three, or maybe four of them, I thought, but I did not catch a proper glance at them disallowing myself to begin to guess what was inside. Slightly excited by what I may have found, I began to walk faster which further irritated my feet and made me wish I had worn my walking shoes.

After a few moments, I again reached the plastic bags and realized there was, in fact, four. From my distant viewpoint, the bags took the shape of bodies. To save myself the title of a cowardice, I dismissed this notion and tried to get a different perspective. Being across the stream from the scene, the only way possible to better identify what I had been seeing was to cross the water. Here, the water was slightly deep, but I knew no bridges, aside from the one created by the highway, were anywhere near. Accepting this fact, I crossed the water cautiously. 

The water was frigid but I managed to only get my feet wet finding enough rocks to help me cross the water safely. Almost forgetting why I had crossed the water, I suddenly looked up to where the bags were and nearly screamed right there in the lonely forest. From this view, the thin plastic bags were identical to the shape of four bodies. I contemplated running home but knowing I had come this far in my journey, I now had to see what was resting peacefully on top of the hill.

I will quickly climb the hill, peak into one of the bags and laugh at myself for creating such a gruesome scare, I thought. As I started up the hill, my feet slipped in the deep mud keeping me from making any forward progress. Standing at the bottom of the hill made me comprehend the difficulty of climbing snow and ice covered mountains. I had always been interested in mountaineering but knew nothing of how people successfully climbed such steep slopes. It was hard enough for me to make a few steps upward on this muddy hill. 

Grabbing hold of trees and propelling myself forward would be the only way for me to successfully conquer the incline. I did so carefully, trying not to slip. Nearly half way up the hill, I took another glance at my destination. I jumped at the sight. My heart was pumping at an extremely fast rate, and I nearly gave up in my quest right then and there. Scared out of my mind, I reached out taking hold of the next tree and pulled myself closer to the top. I made a few more steps promising myself not to look at the bags and tried focusing my thoughts on other things. Looking down the hill, I saw a middle-aged man staring right in my direction. I wondered if the man had been searching for the bags. His path was the only one I had crossed that day and I still wonder why this was the case.

I decided to ignore the man; although, it was clear he was watching my every motion. The bearded man of about forty-five looked fierce, even from far away. The climb became even more difficult as it was nearly complete. At the steepest point of the hill, no trees were close enough to take hold of. The thought of giving up my journey again crossed my mind but even if I had, I would still have to face the man at the bottom of the hill.

Finally, reaching out, my hand touched one of the bags. Suddenly, I began to slip slowly down the hill at a fast rate. The man still watched me and seemed to be waiting for my arrival to the bottom. From merely a single touch, I realized what had been in all four bags. I wondered how to detach myself from the current situation not wanting to face the man who now seemed angry. Having to accept the situation I had created for myself, I quickly made my way to the bottom of the hill, slipping on my final step causing me to fall right before the man’s feet. Unexpectedly, the man spoke. “You saw nothing on top of that hill.” His voice rang fiercely, and he startled me greatly just from his mere presence.

The man grabbed me by the shirt’s collar and repeated, “You saw nothing on top of that hill.” His voice with greater intensity and his words a bit slower this time. He pushed me down and took the path eastward, which was, thankfully, opposite of my home. I still remember the stench of his breath and the yellowness in his teeth from the, I am guessing, years of smoking cigarettes. I stood up, brushed some of the mud from my face and ran all the way back to my house reaffirming to myself that I saw nothing on top of that hill as my feet were pained from the blisters my shoes had given me.