Do you remember the beach?

I remember sand, golden around my feet. Hot, thousands of tiny grains slipping between my toes. I don't recall what happened to my shoes. I remember walking upon the sands barefoot while I listened to the distant sounds of water lapping at the shores of a faraway beach. 

The sky was a soft pink. Can you recall how the sun hung high in the air, none of us able to tell if it was sunset or sunrise? I remember wondering where the clouds were, wondering if I would roast alive under the unmoving sun. If I close my eyes, I can see the six of us as we wandered the rolling waves of golden-white sand unconcerned by the looming threat of dehydration.

God, we were fools. All of us. You and me, Sarah and Sammy and Micah. Howard, too, though I would never say that to his face. His 4.0GPA withstanding, he should have known better to walk into the desert-beach as we had. You should have known better. I should have. 

We all should have.

Now I've no idea where I am. I'm wandering the shadows of a place I've never been before. To the left, there's a dense and dark forest. To the right, rolling hills of blooming flowers and fruit-heavy trees. I'm walking upon a ridge, the stones hard and sharp under my feet. I have a feeling I shouldn't leave this dangerous path I walk, these rocks towering high above two different worlds. A world of unknown shadows and the other a place of blissful peace.

Ahead of me is a towering mountain range. The caps are hidden above the clouds, but I bet they're covered in snow. This ledge I walk, it goes straight to the mountain. I'm too afraid to glimpse what's behind me, afraid to know what could stand opposite a towering, looming force of stone hundreds of years old. Maybe thousands. Who knows?

Do you remember the beach?

I remember the drive — six people in a van, you and Howard driving. I was trapped between Sammy and Micah, listening to them nip at each other over small things like who would eat the last bag of Cheetos. Sarah was sleeping in the back, arm over her face, and one knee bent. She didn't stir even when we hit the hole in the road, though that bump in the country, dirt street stopped Sammy and Micah's argument.

The land we had come from, with its rivers and gentle forests, was long behind us. There were valleys of rock and sparse plants around us in the distance, sparse forests. There were even canyons and waterfalls a few days off, we if chose to drive that long. Would we have seen them?

Would you have taken us there? Would you have offered me that knowing smile?

Did you think about holding my hand when I lingered by the door?

I'm not sure why we chose to go off the road. I can't recall the conversation, only that Howard grabbed the backpack out of the back of the van and led us away from the car. I walked with Sarah at the end of the group. You and Micah and Sammy and Howard were at the front, the four of you leading the way.

Sarah, she was like me. 

She was frightened by something we couldn't quite understand.

Scared of what was coming, something we never thought we'd see.

I'm walking this ridge between dark forests and rolling fields of pink. The sky is blue. There is something cold behind me. I can feel it as I walk, feel it as surely as I feel the sharp edges of each rock kissing the sides of my feet. This cold force at my back, it's a wind. It runs skeletal fingers across the back of my neck, brushes over my palms, but it doesn't push, doesn't demand, as I walk the line of some unknown fate.

Do you remember the beach?

If I close my eyes, I can hear you. I can see the afterimage of the campfire the second night we were out in the wild, can feel the warmth as you hummed a low, slow song. I can hear the soft scrapes of your combat-issued knife as it peels the skin off a branch. I can smell a scent of oil and leather in the air and something spicier underneath that was uniquely you.

The log I had sat on, it was sturdy but worn. Many people had sat on it, their backs to the cliff overlooking a desert that would, in time, reach an ocean of still water. Howard was telling a story as we all sat around the fire, his voice rough as he described how the natives of the land said the ocean was the bridge between the realms of life and death. 

His hair, wavy and thick, fell around his face as he had gestured to the cliff behind me as he explained how invaders from another country would damn the natives. The air had been so cold as he whispered how the invaders would grab the young boys and girls and hold them over the edge of the cliff. That if they were cast off the cliff and died, their souls would be trapped.

If I fell from that ledge, would my soul, too, be caught in that bloody web?

Come morning, we took to the narrow, winding staircase leading to the desert. We were all headed for that, this fabled place you had told us about since you and Howard transferred to our school. Sarah stayed by my side. Her hand brushed mine, knuckles to knuckles. She wouldn't meet my eyes, wouldn't say anything.

I didn't question the bruises on her legs. 

She didn't question the cut on the side of my face.

The steps were warm under our feet. The shelf of stone to our left was warm, almost alive as it seemed to swell and shrink, pulsing like a heartbeat, under our hands. There was a wind whirling through the passage, sweeping along the stairs, dancing between our feet. It was like it was guiding us further down, gently urging us to go faster. With each step, I could smell something on the wind - incense, thick and rich and alluring.

I was relaxing, the worries seeping away. Sarah was starting to smile. Sammy and Micah were both singing ahead, their voices carrying like ghosts upon the wind. You and Howard, the two of you were quiet. Pushing forward, never missing a step.

How had I forgotten about the water? Why hadn't I thought to grab those bottles before we left?

Do you remember the beach?

Forest, rolling fields, mountains, deserts - these are things I remember, small flashes of things I can't quite put my finger on. Were they in the past? Are they a part of the here and now? Are they, perhaps, harbingers of a future yet to come? I've been walking for so long.

The mountain isn't any closer. The forest is on one side of me, the rolling fields of flowers and fruit on the other. I know there's snow up on that mountain, cold as the unseen presence that stalks after me. 

I try to remember their faces, their voices. I can't.

What of my mother and father? My sisters and brothers? Where had they gone?

Wasn't I supposed to be at my cousins playing a game of baseball this weekend? Or is one of the girls having a ballet recital? Was it my younger sister or the older one? Not my brother, no. There is a gun with my brother, a green, loose uniform tucked into mid-calf boots. He's gone overseas.

Teachers, friends, family - where are they? Why aren't they here with me?

I slow to a stop, shoulders heavy and head fuzzy. The world is swaying. It almost sounds as if I'm underwater, the world around me shuddering and unbalanced. Behind me, the cold wraps itself around my wrists, around my hips, around my ankles. Beckons, gently, for me to turn.

And when I do, I finally see. Rolling waves of sand and a shimmering, silver sea.

Tell me, do you remember me after you left me to bleed out on the beach?