Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27190570-20151111231520

 

The day that my friend James died started out like any other Saturday. I was fourteen years old at the time, in eighth grade. It was a dreary kind of day, the kind of day where everything looks bland, the sky was a stoic grey, the trees were dead, and the houses looked whitewashed. My friends and I had been planning a camp out in the woods a mile or so away from my house for weeks. I was packing my bag at the time, slipping my phone (a flip phone, this was 2004) and a flashlight into my bag of camping supplies which, quite rebelliously I might add, I had hidden a can of beer in (in my defense it was Eric's idea). My mother gave me my sleeping bag, which was freshly washed, and told me to behave myself, and to call her if I needed anything, and to tell Eric's mom she said hi, and so on and so forth.

 I left with my supplies crammed into a green messenger bag that was far too small and really trying its hardest not to burst open. I walked to my friend Eric's house and invited myself in.I said hello to his mother, also dutifully saying hello for my mother as well. She told me to have a seat while I waited for Eric to finish packing. Now I'm not gonna lie, Eric and I were pretty well-off kids. We lived in a good neighborhood in Eastern Iowa, near the Mississippi, about a two hour drive from Chicago. My father was a lawyer and my mother was a sales rep for some corporation. Eric's dad was a neurosurgeon and made enough money that not only did Eric live in a nicer house than me, but his mother didn't work either. His dad was constantly working, I had been best friends with Eric since I was six and I've only seen his dad on like nine different occasions. Eric came downstairs with a really nice backpack, filled to near-bursting with supplies and ,of course, his obligatory one can of beer (Which I should add that we never drank, due to what happened that night). He high-fived me and said "This is going to be great." I wonder if he ever regretted saying that, after what happened.

 We then went to our friend Samantha's house. She lived a couple blocks down from us in a nicer Cul-de-sac, with parents who neither knew nor cared where she was going to be tonight. She had come out of the closet a few months earlier and her parents had all but disowned her. Eric, James, and I had really planned this whole thing for her, to get her mind off of the situation at home. She had an older backpack slung around one shoulder and a chip on the other. "Come on losers!" She called back after she had ran past us "We're going James-hunting!"

 We met up with James at a park a mile or so from Samantha's place. It was a bit of a hike, but James couldn't get a ride and we weren't about to leave him behind. We occupied ourselves during the walk by singing a tone-deaf rendition of Nirvana's "From the Man Who Sold The World". Sam actually befriended me after catching me singing "Ball and Chain" by Social Distortion, and befriending me inevitably me meant befriending Eric. Eric did not share Sam and I's amazing taste in music, instead preferring rap music, but he knew the words because my stereo had blasted it enough time while he was at my house for him to have it memorized. We were about a block away from the park when James came pedaling towards us on his rusty bike, when he came close enough to hear the singing he joined in with an "Oh no, not me/We never lost control".

 James was the newest addition to our little circle of friends, befriending Eric back in 6th grade, and of course befriending Eric meant befriending me. James was, to put it bluntly, poor as they come. He was also insanely intelligent. James went to our prep school on a full-ride scholarship and was basically a genius. Now Eric, Sam, and I were smart kids (the school kicked you out if you ever got less than a 3.0) but James was on a whole different level. I may have been a better writer than him, but James was in Junior science and Math classes in 8th grade. He was already getting letters from colleges, and was basically guaranteed a full-ride to Stanford. He was also musically gifted, his most prized possession being his grandfather's acoustic guitar. He was going to be the first person in his family in many years to go beyond working as a waitress or a bartender or a miner or the front man of some suckish band. Sometimes, I wonder if it should have been me who died that night.

 We walked/biked towards our already-set-up campsite, passing the time by seeing who could rap "Slim Shady" the fastest (Eric), who we believed should be the next president (It was October of 2004 and we unanimously decided on John Kerry, political debates aren't as much fun when everyone agrees with each other), and what the best movie was so far that year (We all saw Shaun of The Dead together on the day it came out so we decided on that, Blade Trinity was better but it hadn't come out at the time). When we arrived, James leaned his bike against a tree while Eric and Samantha went hunting for firewood, I made sure that all of our things were in order. James started helping me once his bike was properly stowed. Eric and Sam came back with firewood and I set it all up while reading instructions I had printed off the day before. It took two different lighters, a copious amount of swearing, a good dousing of gasoline, and the offering of the soul of my firstborn child to the primal fire gods, but we got it to light.

 It truly was a merry time, full of song and Dr.Pepper and off-brand chips. We all decided that if we were to die, we’d die happy knowing that we had done this, not fully understanding how topical that statement would become. We decided to put the beer into a pot to see if we could get a racoon to drink it (we were in 8th grade, forgive me). All was well until we heard a howl in the trees.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Pardon my french, but what the (at this point, Samantha swore with a speed and veracity I have never heard before. I’m not one for censorship, but she swore so fast I don’t remember what she said) was that?” Sam was more than a little freaked out. Next came the sounds, like someone scratching wood.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Yeah, that’s more than a little spooky.” I said in reply.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Let me get this straight, the oh-so-brave Samantha Little, is spooked by some freaky noises.” Eric was a master of mockery.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Shut up!” Samantha sounded defensive “You can’t tell me you aren’t scared at all.”

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Well I can, and I will” Eric’s eyes told a different story.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“I suppose this is the part where one of us goes and ‘checks it out’” I said sarcastically

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“That seems like a solid plan.” Said James matter of factly. Sam and Eric nodded in agreement.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Wait, seriously?” I looked around incredulously “Have you guys never seen a horror movie?”

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“I just want to see you get chased around by a wild boar or whatever it is.” Said Eric “Because it’s definitely a wild animal, right?”

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Dibs on not going” Samantha called.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“I call dibs as well!” James called in between the strumming of his guitar. This left Eric and I to play rock, paper, scissors over who had to go out. He always chose rock, and I always chose scissors, it didn’t work out for me. Soon I had a flashlight in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Ah yes, go forth my brave paladin, and vanquish the creatures of the night!” Sam’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Okay, first off, I have a baseball bat, and that is clearly the weapon of a celric. Secon-” Eric cut me off

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Stop!” He cried “I’ve had an epiphany!”

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“What?” I asked “What is it?”

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“I’ve just realized that you’re a nerd!” he said completely straight faced. Before I could listen to them discuss my nerdiness I trudged off, muttering curses under my breath. It didn’t take me long to find evidence of whatever creature had made the noises. Deep, raking cuts in several trees, uprooted bushes, foliage scattered everywhere, this creature was not small. I was understandably unnerved.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Hey!” I called “The whole forest is ripped up here!” Silence. “Guys?” If I was freaked out before, I was terrified now. I heard a branch break about twenty feet to my left and so I took off sprinting through the trees, leaving my face spiderwebbed in scratches. I tripped at the edge of the trees and fell conveniently into the clearing where we set up camp.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“What’d you find?” Samantha asked cooly, all traces of worry gone from her voice.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“The whole forest is ripped up, over that way” I was still catching my breath “Hey, wheres James?”

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Oh, he went to go take a-” Eric was interrupted by an ear piercing scream.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">James.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">Without thought or words we charged into the trees in the direction James had headed, finding those same cuts in the trees and a troubling amount of blood. We called James’s name for what felt like hours until we heard a weak cry.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Help!” his voice was coming from the other side of the trees to our left. Sam charged into the trees before we could stop her. Eric and I looked at eachother for a tense moment before we followed her. We walked into quite a grisly scene. James was crumpled up on the ground, those same deep raking cuts visible through his ripped up shirt. Sam was approximately five feet away from James, ghost white and unmoving.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">I ran to James while Eric tried to talk to Sam. I didn’t know what I was doing but I tried my hardest, I took off my jacket to try and bandage him up but there was just so much blood. My friend James died in my arms. I wish I could say that his last words were inspiring or funny, but they weren’t.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“I don’t want to die” He said weakly with his last breath.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Call nine-one-one” I shouted desperately, throwing them my phone. Samantha was still sheet-white and shaking so Eric grabbed the phone and called dutifully. It was too late. James had bled out. The police took twenty minutes to get there, twenty minutes that I don’t remember. I was told they had to pull me off of James, that they had to sedate me because I started having a panic attack. At first the police suspected us of murdering James, but after our testimony and the testimony of all of our parents, including James’s, we were cleared of suspicion. That wasn’t to say that James’s parents didn’t blame us, they hated us for taking him on that trip. They tried to get us charged with endangerment or something but, taking your friend on a trip that kills him isn’t a crime. I wasn’t mad at them them though, I would’ve done the same thing. In the end, James was officially declared to have been killed by a wild animal. I’ve never seen an animal that can do that do a person, have you?

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">I have a feeling that Samantha saw something we didn’t, that she caught a glimpse of whatever killed James, but she would shut down as soon as anyone brought it up. We never really figured out what happened. In 2008 Eric and I went back, the trees still bear those scars, and a marker stands in the clearing where James died, but everything else is gone. Samantha refused to get involved in Eric and I’s investigation and we drifted apart. She moved to her grandparents place in Illinois, we talked online on occasion but I never really saw her. The end of the school year in 2009 marked the end of mine and Eric’s investigation as we both were going to different colleges far away.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">Eric and I still talked and we ended up living near each other when we graduated. Sam, however had basically dropped off the face of the Earth in 2010. We talked to her Grandmother, who said that she had moved away, out of the country. Eric and I didn’t pursue it, we figured that she was just trying to get as far away from here as possible, I didn’t blame her.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">Just recently Eric and I received letters in the mail, it was from Sam. She said that she was sorry for ignoring us for five years, that she just had to leave everything behind. She was inviting us to her wedding, to a woman named Jane. Needless to say we were more than a little surprised. We were also elated. We both booked tickets on the next plane to Scotland. Since the wedding wasn’t for a few days we went sight seeing. Scotland is a beautiful country, if a bit rainy. We were worried that we’d find Sam to be a completely different person, after all, people don’t just drop off the face of the Earth for five years without changing a little bit. We decided that different Sam or not, we were going to be there for our friend.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">Eric and I left our hotel to go to the address the Samantha had provided us in her letter. We arrived at a single story suburban home near Glasgow. Its color could be best described as “rental house blue”. The house was surrounded by cars. A mousy man with glasses approached Eric and I and asked us who we were. After we identified ourselves we asked what was going on.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">The man looked around nervously before saying “Samantha Little and Jane McTavish are missing.”  I heard him but did not comprehend, I asked him to repeat himself and as he did Eric responded by punching the man in the nose. He was never a believer in “Don’t shoot the messenger”. After we were camed down the mousy man told us who he was. “My name is Duncan McTavish, I’m Jane’s brother” his accent was lighter than one would expect in the heart of Scotland “Jane and Sam went missing about three days ago, there was signs of a struggle”

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Was there anything else? Around the house?” Eric asked through clenched teeth.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Yeah, there were these weird markings in the trees.” Duncan said confusedly.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">We left immediately. We stayed in a hotel for a few days, barely speaking to each other. Two hours before our flight was to arrive, we got a call. They had found Sam and Janes bodies. There were long deep slashes across their backs. The funeral happened quickly. The only people there were Duncan, Eric, the Priest and I. We left Scotland on the first available flight back.

<p dir="ltr" style="font-weight:normal;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;line-height:1.38;text-indent:36pt;"> <span style="font-weight:400;font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;"> I write this memoir two weeks after that, exactly eleven years after James’s death. I write because I think that whatever killed James came back for Sam because she had seen it. I write because when I was in Sam’s house in Scotland, talking to Jane’s brother I saw a pair of eyes staring at me from the trees in her backyard. I write because I know it’s coming for me next. I’ve warned Eric to stay away from me, told him what's going on. I’m not as upset as I thought I would be, impending death and all. I think it’s because deep down, I know I deserve this. I’m accepting this because I’ve faced facts, if we hadn’t brought James with us that night, he’d still be alive. I can hear it now, howling and scarring the trees. I welcome it.

<span style="font-size:14.6667px;font-family:Arial;color:rgb(0,0,0);font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">​ <ac_metadata title="The Day James Died (Deleted for what I assume to be formatting reasons but I figured I bring here to get some feedback anyways)"> </ac_metadata>