Devils’ Tower: Temporary Escape From Death

Hands were wrapping around my legs as tears came to my face. Once down we still had a difficult time traversing the huge boulders to get to level land. We kept our hands under our armpits and proceeded to our rental car. We found an empty restroom that had a series of hand dryers. We wrung out our shirts and placed them over the vents of three of them while we tried to gently warm our hands. My best friend and I were ready to hit the bar and drink to our amazing survival. Our mutual friend was subdued, yet happy. While my best buddy and I viewed it as an incredible and lucky adventure, our mutual friend saw it as intervention by God. He would join a church that has unique beliefs and he traveled the land for years in and attempt to gain membership for his religion. He wasn’t the typical fit, for his very essence was against church protocol and acceptance.

Years later, while recovering from a traumatic brain injury, I received a phone call from my old best buddy. Since I had come out of the closet the year before, even our adventures together weren’t enough for him to accept me for whom I am: today we rarely speak. His call came at a time when I wasn’t sure of who I was and both my parents were very ill. My father had severe coronary problems and my Mother was dying from ovarian cancer. At times I would travel between two different hospitals to visit them, then go to a third specialty recovery hospital for myself. My friend’s news was disturbing, our mutual friend had killed himself. He had already given up on his church, but was unable to accept himself. It is often said of the deceased what gentle souls they were, as if a jerk never dies. Our friend was a shining example of love. He would do incredible feats for others with nothing expected, or wanted, in return.

These last few years I have seen what I don’t believe in, ghost. For me they are projections in our minds of things we want to see. The first ghost I saw I knew was my loving sister who had succumbed to Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Lately I’ve seen another, and at first I thought it may be a fellow I tried to save in Wyoming, but who’s death I blamed on myself. This ghost is different, all black, he wears a hat, and is not transparent like my sister was. Now, writing about this adventure, I think the new ghost is my deceased friend from Devils’ Tower. Even my dog has seen and reacted to him, so my theory needs revamping. Just a few months ago, this tall thin black shadow of a man repeatedly walked to a wall where our fireplace is. He would vanish at the same point each time. My partner and I were feeling sick and all the dogs were lethargic. The next day I visited the area my old friend kept walking toward, and I smelled gas. Over 150 gallons of propane fuel had filled our home through a defective pipe which had developed a pinhole. Only the night before we had lit candles to mask the odor. The man from the gas company could barely speak, all he kept saying was ‘Splinters’. The house should be a pile of splinters. Call me crazy, but I believe my old friend called me one last visit, as I have not seen him since.