Ole Anderson: A Short Story

It had been two weeks since he last walked out of Henry’s lunch room without as much as a goodbye for George. This is because he knew George would beg him to stay and tell him to forget about the situation with the killers and Ole Anderson. No matter how hard he tried to forget, the thought of Ole Anderson staring blankly at the wall would creep its way back into his memory. Nick knew the only option was to set out for a fresh start in life and discover the bigger picture. He had been hiking up Mount Kilimanjaro for two restless days now with the possibility of death circling around him at every second like a vulture. This didn’t bother him because he only seeked the adventure and satisfaction to reach the top of the mountain. Life beyond that
The young man looked frozen and exhausted, but deep in his eyes there was a look of determination. Perhaps Nick could help him finish the climb.
“What do you think about being my partner? I don’t have enough confidence to finish the mountain alone. I have matches, food, rope, a tarp for shelter, and lots of knowledge about the paths on the mountain. What do you say?”
He took a long pause, and finally said, “There is no sense in departure now, Francis. I promise you together we will be strong.”
So it began, and the two men hiked side by side through the rough terrain. Words and laughter traveled through the wind every so often, but it was mostly the company of another person that kept each man hopeful. The day grew old and the sun sank into the horizon. Stars poked little twinkling holes into the dark blue sky above Mount Kilimanjaro. Two miles until a rest break seemed like a lifetime to Francis, but he remained motivated by Nick climbing over rocks and through the patches of snow. In the distance large boulders lay stacked one by one on top of eachother like an enormous wall keeping them from getting further up the
He collapsed to the ground, unable to comprehend what had happened before him. For a moment the whole world paused and the the howling wind remained still. Moments later, he rose from the ground and turned back the way he had came with a blank expression. The smell of alcohol consumed his thoughts and the notebook full of unwritten stories lay abandoned in the snow path. He walked day and night until coming to the bottom of the mountain once again. With tears in his eyes, he kissed the flat ground beneath him. He never realized his notebook was missing, or that the death of his new friend would break him