The Haunting of Roan Mountain by S A Jacobs

Author:S A Jacobs [Jacobs, S A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Six-String Books
Published: 2019-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

I started to think back to my time in high school when I would come down there. I was the weird, punk kid with my leather jacket and dirty hair. I made it my mission in life to push everyone away, except for Melanie. I built an emotional wall and put it up between me and the world. I was an angry kid and wanted to do things my way. This shack became my escape from the world. The one place I could be me. The one place I could let my walls down. The one place where, when it came to Melanie, I had confidence and a voice. There, no one could mess with me… until someone did. The last time I had been to the Shack was when Melanie told me she was marrying Austin. That was the moment that destroyed my safe place. At that moment, it was as if someone hit stop on my boom box. My anthem was gone and so was my sanctuary.

I slowly stood up and shook off my trip down memory lane. Aside from realizing how misguided and depressing my youth had been, I’d learned nothing by coming back there. I took a deep breath and caught the smell of smoke. There was a campfire nearby.

The scent was coming from further down the trail. Without thinking, I headed in the direction of the smell. With every step, the scent got stronger. I quickened my pace. I took another deep breath and realized it didn’t smell like smoke from clean, dried wood burning. It was heavier, almost acrid. I couldn’t place it. A little further down the trail, I reached another clearing and the source of the smell.

There was a large fire pit in the center of the clearing. I realized the acrid smell was not of a live fire but the more overpowering smell of a fire being extinguished. The wood in the pit was only partially burned. I stooped down and put my hand over it. It was still hot. The fire had gone out only minutes prior.

“Hello?” I yelled.

I stood unmoving, trying to hear anything in response, be it words or even the snapping of a twig under someone's foot. There was nothing.

The ground was damp and soft, and as my eyes scanned the area, I realized that my footprints were clear. I could even see the logo imprinted on the ground from the soles of my hiking shoes. Yet, my footprints were the only ones there. There were no tracks of any kind, human or animal, leading in or out of that clearing. Yet, the fire was real, and I could still feel its heat. I took a closer look at the fire pit, and my eyes stopped on a blue piece of fabric. It was on the edge of the pit, lying against one of the rocks.

I picked it up and looked at it. It was only a couple inches square and burned on all the edges. Then, the image of Zeke flashed before my eyes.

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