Whatever You Do, Forget the Jellybeans

Joe called me and asked me if I wanted
to go hiking with him. I told him I wasn’t
sure. “C’mon, it’ll be great. I know this
great little lake where you can talk
to the birds.” Joe had always been out there,
out in his own little ether, but I agreed
to go with him, mostly because it seemed
a good excuse for some exercise, and plus
no one had seen or heard from Joe in months.
We met at the trailhead the next day. “Ok,”
Joe said, “just follow me and you’ll be fine.”
The first day was ok. We got lost once or twice,
but the trail was wide and clear and we
always found it again. The second day wasn’t bad,
though my feet started to hurt by noon, and once
Joe said he thought he saw some wolves, but it
turned out to just be an abandoned pick-up truck.
The trail was narrowing though, and by the third day
we could hardly see it at all. Several times we had to
guess which way to go, though we always guessed right,
and Joe found an old arrowhead, which
we both took as a good sign. The fourth day we had to pick
and hack our way through to keep on the overgrown trail.
I thought about turning back, but I didn’t want Joe to be
disappointed in me. He had been talking about the birds
all day, and it seemed nice enough. By the fifth day the trail was
completely gone. We were subsisting on nuts and berries and herbs
we found. I asked him how far away the lake was,
which got a good laugh. I hated the thought of going on,
with my feet as sore as they were, but the thought of those
talking birds just kept me going. We made camp that night,
not even bothering to put up tents we were so exhausted.
When I woke up the next morning, though, Joe had vanished.
He hadn’t even bothered to leave a note, and all his stuff
was gone. So I just kept walking in the same direction,
crossing over roots and trees and cutting clear through
the forest. I had a vague sense that I should turn around, and
once I looked back, but the trees behind me looked so
alien that I never bothered with that again. Then, just
as the sun was setting I came across a lake. It was nestled
between some hills and the trees were perfectly mirrored
in the water, two long stitchings of green beauty.
There was no one around for miles. Then I
remembered what Joe had said and, sure enough,
I saw a turkey come strolling out of the woods, a majestic
red thing with a proud neck. “Not a bad lake, huh?”
he said, looking out across the flat expanse of water.
And truly, it wasn’t.