fourth year jeremy person

He reached the top of the hill, where the dog waited patiently. Far behind them, activity at the campsite was winding down as dusk settled. Far ahead, the mountain rose.

“Ready for the trip?”

“Yeah, let’s make this quick,” he said.

“Where’s the fun in that?” asked the dog, pointing its nose to the path that wound between the trees, up to the first ridge. “C’mon, chase me!”

Barking, it ran up the path, leaving him behind to sigh and check his wristwatch. Eight hours left.

He walked for an hour, laden with sweat and swatting at the incessantly hungry bugs. The woods were sparse, and with night coming on, he could see the first stars emerging.

The dog’s barks were further up the path; he caught up, hands on knees trying to breathe again, while the dog watched from a crop of trees.

“You good?,” it asked.

“Ehf-fuck,” he said. The dog looked around, went behind a tree, and came out the other side a floating jellyfish.

“W-why…?” he asked.

“Gettin’ dark,” it responded, glowing brightly.

He waited a full ten seconds before pushing himself after the receding light.

After another hour, he could keep pace with the gently bobbing jelly. It cast technicolor shadows of blue through the thickening foliage. He stumbled closer to its glow to better see his watch.

“Six hours left,” he said. “How much longer?”

“Dunno.”

“Well, how much further?”

“Dunno.”

“What?” he asked. The jelly didn’t respond, gliding from the path to a patch of grass.

“Look at this flower, dude,” said the jellyfish.

It laid a tentacle over an unassuming plant – from its long stem unfurled lavender petals with furry white ends.

“Great, but if we don’t hurry to the peak…”

“Oh, it’s cool. We might not get there,” said the jellyfish.

“We’re going back?”

“Hm? Oh, nope,” it said, flicking the petals. “Now c’mon, look at this fucking flower, I said!”

“No man, this is a waste of time,” he said.

“Why?”

“Someone else will get there first!”

“What’ve you got to lose? It’s just a mountain.”

“It’s more than that!”

“I think you’re making this worse than it is.”

He kicked the jellyfish; it burst out into a dozen fireflies, swirled around, and reconstituted into an apple.

He picked it up. “Hello?”

The apple was quiet, and despite the starlight, he couldn’t see anything in front of him. He tapped a button on his watch to activate the glow-in-the-dark face and trudged onward.

Two hours later, his body was protesting any movement, and the battery was dying, but he kept going. After another hour, the trees were replaced by rock formations. The apple remained silent.

His watch stopped twelve minutes later. With a sigh, he sat down.

“Now what?” he asked the apple. No response.

“Fine,” he said.

With only the company of stars, he noticed his stomach rumbling. He took a bite of the apple and found it refreshingly sweet, so he laid back and enjoyed the rest.

We Might Not Get There