Haverspoint

I can recall spending many nights at the fortress, as we used to call it. Pat and I used this quite place to reflect on our mutual gripes, trials and tribulations.
We first came across it when we were just five years old, we had ventured into the unknown frontier, Hooper’s wood. On the outskirt of town laid this eternal abyss of spruce. We knew we were not permitted to enter, my parents wouldn’t have considered it twice. But Pat, the knight of Havers’ point, trudged right on in and I his trusty squire doubtingly followed. Pat was always the brave one. He would stand up to any who asked for a fight. He wasn’t afraid to take a beating, or give one.
I remember the first time I met Pat. I was trying to read a book while Peter repeatedly slapped it from my hands forcing me to continually pick it up. Next thing I know, an unknown hero slugged Peter in the side of the head. It was Pat.
Anyway, we trudged heroically through the forest waiting for monsters to appear, for our lives were always in constant peril. We followed the small path that cut through the large pine trees. Leaves and debris carpeted the ground. You could smell the decomposing flesh of ogres lost in battles long past. The raunchy smell tickled our noses; we knew monsters laid ahead. We trekked for what seemed forever, but most likely was only a mile. We fell across a little cove; there were two immense boulders that overlooked the colossal gully at the edge of town. We each took a seat on a boulder and looked out upon the greenery and the small river that cut through it. The river was about fifty feet under the steep drop. We dreamed of taking a raft down there, to escape this horrid place.

The door opened with a loud clamber. My mother walked in. “Son, Mrs. McClain left this envelope to you. She said it was from Pat.”

I grabbed the envelope and shooed my mom out the door. I felt the letter, as if it was a warm biscuit, as if Pat’s body heat was still on it, like he was still here. I gently ran my finger along the seal knocking it loose. I slowly spread the paper and placed my 2 fingers on the note that was enclosed. BAM! It hit me. Not here.
Like a gazelle I leaped gracefully through the air, down the stairs and out the door. Night had fallen but I didn’t look back. I ran like hordes of ogres were nipping at my heels. I halted. I was at the entrance to the woods. I never went past this point alone. I was not brave enough.
I stared blindly, a deer in headlights. I grasped the letter. It felt warm in my hands. I could feel it. I could feel him. I took off through the woods. Noises bombarded me from every direction. Fear left me. Courage met me. Over tree stump, under branches, cracking sticks along the way, it didn’t matter. Halt.
I was there, the place where dreams brewed and warmed our spirits. There it was. I sat down on the rock, on my rock. I once again gently opened the edge of the letter and pulled a small piece of stationary from the envelope.

Dear Nick,
As you know I will not be around anymore. Well, around in the sense that most think. I am mortal and so are you. Dreams are for those who know mortality. You cannot feel unless you know you bleed. I had a dream. I flew across the oceans. I flew across the ocean and found love. She was a brunette with blue eyes. I was ready for love. I was ready to feel mortal. Time was not mine it belonged to someone else. I wanted to spend eternity but I couldn’t.