The day Anna died was the worst day of my life, but it started out as the best.
I often think of how thin that line is, between triumph and disaster. It’s like when you stand at the edge of a cliff, watching the sunset, awestruck by the beauty and majesty of nature, and beneath all the wonder and contentment, there’s a little voice in the back of your head that says jump.
It happened at the top of the hill. In the crater that you can’t see coming until you’re about to fall into it.
People picnic there now. Dog walkers sometimes rest by the stones at the bottom. Children play there too, but not when you can feel the warmth. Not when the hairs stand up on the back of your neck and your skin begins to crawl. Or when you can hear faint music echoing through the air.
When that happens, most people know to stay away.
That afternoon, Anna threw stones at my window to get my attention. I found her jumping and waving at me from the middle of the street and for a moment, I wondered if I was still dreaming.
We had lived on the same street all our lives. Playing together as children, talking as we walked the short stretch of road between our homes and where the school bus dropped us off each afternoon. It was only in the past year or so I’d noticed the ice blue of her eyes, the peach pink of her skin or how she tucked the stray curls of her hair behind her ear when she talked.
She was fifteen, a year older, and the age gap meant we moved in different circles. Her friends were girls who wore lipgloss and rolled up their skirts. Who told loud stories about weekend drinking and left a faint whiff of smoke trailing behind them in the hallway. The older boys circled their group like prowling wolves, desperate to pick one off.
My friends still spent every spare moment on the football pitch, or swapping Pokemon cards.
Although I had yet to experiment with alcohol, cigarettes or girls the way most teenagers eventually do, I could feel the first stirrings of curiosity. Stirrings that became almost overwhelming whenever I passed Anna in the hall, and she flashed me a secret smile.
I thudded down the stairs and out of the front door to find Anna standing at the end of the garden path.
“Hey Alex,” she said. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Absolutely,” I said, too eagerly.
“C’mon then, Night Fever. I’ve got something cool to show you.”
Night Fever. The nickname had followed me for years. Ever since Danny Prince, the self-appointed cock of the school, had noticed the new shoes my mum forced me to wear on the first day of term. Cumbersome brothel creepers with thick soles that made it look like I was wearing platforms.
“Nice shoes,” he’d said. “Who gave you those? John Travolta?” Then he danced the Night Fever, to the raucous laughter of everyone nearby.
Long after the shoes were in the bin, I was still Night Fever to most of my classmates. I didn’t like it, but it could’ve been worse. Coming from Anna, it almost sounded cool.
She took my hand and led me towards the far end of the street, where the houses came to an abrupt end and the trees took over. In summer, the little woodland looked dense, but now that the branches had lost their leaves, it was easy to see the steep slopes of Hulsted Hill behind them.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” she said. “Don’t worry, it’s worth it. I don’t think you’d want to come if I just told you.”
I probably would have gone anywhere she asked me to but, luckily for me, I was too timid to respond with anything so corny.
We started up the face of the hill, fighting our way past the brambles and damp branches. When we emerged on the grassy slope, a bitter wind blew across our path. The ground was slick with autumn rain. We slid and stumbled over fallen leaves and my thin sweatshirt could not prevent my shivering. Instead, I tried to concentrate on the electricity where mine and Anna’s skin met.
“This better be good,” I said, trying to pretend there was anywhere else I’d rather be.
She turned and stuck out her tongue and a moment of giddy warmth rushed through me.
“You won’t believe it,” she said.
We reached the brow of the hill and behind us, the city glinted in the distance. Skyscrapers reflected shafts of sunlight back over the drab and sodden valley we called home.
Hulsted Hill was picturesque but bleak. It loomed over our town like a desolate moon. The terrain was pockmarked with muddy ditches, and grass sprouted between the remnants of ancient stone walls, long since collapsed. The thought of being alone up there with Anna, amongst the hill’s many hiding places, gave me goosebumps.
I was breathing hard from our climb, but Anna kept marching us over the bleak moorland. She didn’t seem to notice the cold though she wore only a pink tank top, faded jeans, and white Converse that were already spattered with mud.
I stumbled over tussocky grass, keeping my eyes on the ground to avoid turning my ankle on weathered rocks or sun-bleached sheep bones.
Eventually, we stopped at the edge of a deep crater that fell into the moor. It was wide and banked like the sides of an amphitheatre. At the bottom, two slabs of rock stuck out of the mud, at right angles with each other. They appeared neatly and purposely arranged, like an office desk and chair.
Anna smiled down into the hollow, excitement burning in her eyes.
“We’re here,” she said and squeezed my hand until it was slick with sweat.
I looked down into the bowl, at the mossy rocks and the muddy turf. “Am I supposed to see something down there?”
“Shh… I think it’s coming. I can feel it.”
An ugly bubble of mistrust rose in me, like air in a syringe. At that age, almost anything can feel like a trick. Like a trap. She must’ve seen how all the boys looked at her. Or at least overheard how Danny and the others talked as she walked by. He said such disgusting things, sometimes loud enough for her to hear. She’d mime throwing up, but I’d catch her smiling when he wasn’t looking.
I pictured Danny now, up here with us. Ready to spring from one of the ditches so he could point and laugh at Night Fever. Ready to douse my hopes of a shot with Anna in ridicule.
We stood in silence a minute or two more, the wind hardening my bones and suspicion dampening my spirits, until Anna did something so unexpected it took me a moment to understand what I was seeing.
She dropped my hand and swan-dived into the crater. Her arms spread like wings, as though she was jumping into a deep pool rather than thin air.
Paralysed, I watched as tragedy unfolded before me in slow motion. I couldn’t focus on anything other than how keenly I felt the loss of her hand in mine.
I should’ve done something, reached for her maybe, or screamed at least. But before I could, her fall slowed and then stopped. She was suspended there, motionless, like someone had hit pause. Then, she started gliding gently through the air, flipping onto her back and swinging her arms. She swam through empty space like it was water.
“I told you it was worth seeing,” she said.
My heart sledgehammered inside my ribs and sweat ran from my palms like open taps. All my senses told me something was terribly wrong, and that I should turn and run away. But Anna was sharing a secret with me. She was flying and had chosen me to witness it.
When she reached the other side of the crater, she leaned back against the edge and smiled at me in a way that extinguished all my doubts.
“Come on in, you know how to swim don’t you?”
I dangled one foot over the edge and immediately lost my balance. My leg came down hard against the steep incline and jarred all the way up into my hip.
“No, wuss. You have to jump.” Anna laughed again. “If you go slow, all you get is down.”
Danny’s face popped back into my head. I saw him laughing and jigging as I plummeted into the mud face-first.
I made the shape to jump but failed to commit and half-collapsed over the side. I went down stiff and straight like a domino. The ground hurtled towards me and I prepared myself for a head injury that would condemn me to a vegetative state for the rest of my life.
Until I felt it. Resistance beneath me, buoyancy. I was floating. Bobbing back up onto the invisible surface. Carried out into nowhere by an unseen current. It was warm too, like sinking into the bath. The air crackled and tingled against my skin and a static charge crawled along my body.
Anna’s arms slid around my neck from behind and I caught the floral scent of her perfume.
“Relax,” she said. “You won’t fall… unless you want to.”
She used her legs to push us both through the air. Strands of her hair teased across my cheek and her breath was warm against my ear. As moments go, this was one I could’ve lived in forever.
“There’s more,” she whispered. “Quickly… it might be over soon.”
Letting go of me, she swam down towards the ground and the boulders. She landed and began walking normally, as though there was nothing unusual about this place at all.
“Come down,” she said. “It won’t last much longer and you need to see the rest.”
I tried to land gracefully, pushing myself toward the ground with my arms, but I misjudged it and thudded my shoulder into the mud.
Anna smothered a laugh with her hand. She watched me from her perch sitting on top of the boulder, one leg dangling over the edge and the other crossed beneath her. “It takes a bit of getting used to.”
I stood and tried to dust myself off but only managed to smear the mud around my clothes. It was still warm down there, like being immersed in a heated pool.
“How can this be real?” I said.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Her look said you’re a part of this now and I felt dizzy. “I’ve always loved coming up here. It’s somewhere I can be alone. When someone comes, you hear them way before they see you.”
She looked up to the edge of the crater and the grey cloud cycling by overhead.
“A week ago, I tripped and nearly went over the edge. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have found it.”
“This is crazy,” I said, wafting my hands through the air, searching for the invisible forces at work. “Is it always like this?”
“Not always. If you’re still cold when you get here, you know not to jump. I feel it in my arms and legs first, then the rest of my body. When you feel the warmth you know you can trust it. And when you hear the music.”
“Music?” I asked, but she didn’t answer.
“It’s happened three times before. I felt it this morning, and I wanted to show someone.”
“You wanted to show me?” I tried to meet her eyes but she looked away.
“Anyway,” she said. “There’s something else.”
She swung her legs over the side of the boulder and jumped down behind it. A ray of amber sunlight pierced the grey clouds and bathed the crater in warm light. Standing on the other side of the stone, she rubbed her hands together and shook them out like a magician about to perform a three-card trick.
“Pick an insect,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“Just pick one, we don’t have long. Do you have a favourite? It just needs to be something small, and alive.”
“Something alive?” I narrowed my eyes and studied her face for signs she might be teasing me.
“Forget it. I’ll do it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You like butterflies? Of course you do. Who doesn’t?”
She puffed out a deep breath and began rubbing her hands together more vigorously.
“A butterfly. Alllaaa KAZAM!”
She clapped her hands together in front of my face and I flinched backwards. For a split second, I heard music. Wind chimes, or maybe the pipes of an organ. An indistinct melody floating on the wind.
Anna beamed at me, a halo of autumn sunlight shining through the wisps of her hair. When she opened her hands again, a small butterfly with lilac wings fluttered out from between them.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I watched it twist up into the air. The sensation crawled over my scalp, like static gathering before a thunderstorm. “How did you do that?”
“You can do it too,” she said. “Try it.”
I looked at my hands, dubious, but began rubbing them together anyway. I rubbed faster and faster, until the friction started to burn, before clapping them together so hard it stung my palms.
When I pulled them apart, another butterfly fluttered out from between my fingers and up toward the sky. This one was smaller, with pale wings almost white. It joined Anna’s and they circled each other, flitting together and then apart, touching wings as they passed. The faint sound of music brushed the edge of my awareness again, echoing in the distance.
“This is incredible,” I said.
“Isn’t it?”
We watched the butterflies dance like lovers. I felt the tips of Anna’s fingers brush my own and the blood rushed in my ears.
“Can’t you hear that?” she said.
The music was now undeniable. It chimed all around me, coming from everywhere and nowhere, fluttering on the breeze like the butterflies. Delicate, twinkling harmonies grew louder, filling the crater and running around the edges in waves.
“I’m glad you came,” Anna said, as she closed her hand around mine.
I turned and we were face to face, my body fizzing with the potential of the moment. She moved closer to me, some magnetism drawing us together. I wanted to take control, to take her in my arms and surrender to the feeling. The urge was so strong, it was as if the walls of my mind had been painted over with the same phrase repeated over and over: you have to jump. But I couldn’t shake the sense of vulnerability. The feeling of being exposed, of walking into a trap.
Anna didn’t wait. She leaned in and pressed her lips to mine as the music crescendoed around us.
The kiss only lasted for a moment, but when we eased apart and I opened my eyes it was like waking from a long, rejuvenating sleep. My worries were a distant memory.
She kept her eyes closed a second or two longer than I did, her expression unreadable but serene. A smile formed at the corners of her lips.
The world around me glittered. Little indigo sprites twinkled through the air like torchlight bouncing off dust in the dark. More rays of sunshine penetrated the overcast day and filtered it into a warm peachy sunset.
Was that really how it happened? I’m not sure. I wonder now if this memory is just my mind’s way of coping. It’s probably important that I have this final moment of idealised innocence to cling to. Like everything, it didn’t last.
What came next was the feeling of being watched. The sense that we were no longer alone. Anna’s smile faded.
The man stood behind her at the bottom of the slope. He was tall, thin and pale. I think of him as a man, but there’s really no way to be sure. His body was shapeless beneath some kind of baggy, blue overalls. It looked like some sort of chemical suit, made of a reflective material that glinted in the sunlight. He wore a skull cap, pulled low, that left only his face exposed. His skin was grey but glimmering, as if with a sheen of moisture.
I tried to concentrate on his face but the features shifted. Whenever I focussed on one aspect, it swirled away like oil on water. All I could make out for certain was his pallid complexion and wide, demented grin. It stretched the full width of his face, revealing thick, white, slab-like teeth.
Anna giggled nervously and then jumped around to stand next to me.
“Can we help you with something?” she said, her voice fading beneath the rising music.
The man made no reply.
“Maybe we should go,” I said. I reached for her hand but she pulled away.
“What’s your problem?” She said, ignoring me and talking again to the grinning man. He remained silent and motionless.
The three of us held each other’s gaze for a few moments. When the man moved, I took a step backwards. The slope rose up underneath the sole of my shoe.
He raised his arm, slowly and deliberately bringing it round in front of him like he was operating a crane rather than commanding a limb. He pointed a gloved finger at us.
“What did you say?” Anna asked him. “What’s down there?”
I hadn’t heard him speak or even seen him move his lips, but I sensed a conversation continuing without me.
Maybe there was a voice there. Another sound beneath the steadily growing music, that rattled and echoed like it came from the other end of a pipe. I felt it in my chest and it made me nauseous. The man’s lips stayed in that elastic grin.
I struggled to keep my balance and my arm trembled when I reached for Anna again.
She said, “Oh yeah? Show me what?” Her smile had begun to take on a ghoulish quality. A look of dark anticipation.
I tried to ask her to stop, to come away with me down the hill and to safety, but bile rose in my throat and I couldn’t form the words.
The man leaned over slowly, reaching for the ground. He bent at the waist, but his legs stayed straight and motionless. He folded like cardboard.
When he reached the floor he dug his fingers into the turf and pulled. It opened like a curtain, revealing a void inside the hill. A tunnel that bent down and out of sight. An indigo glow pulsated from within.
Anna was walking toward him now, toward the tunnel.
I found my voice. “No. Anna, please… come back to me. Don’t go in there.”
She turned and the glint in her eye terrified me more than the man or the hole in the earth.
“C’mon… he’s doing this. Don’t you wanna know how? Don’t you wanna see what’s down there?”
She was stroking the side of my hand with one thumb but I couldn’t feel it.
“Let’s jump,” she said. “You and me.”
I like to pretend sometimes that it was the desire to protect Anna, to be her knight in shining armour as Danny Prince almost certainly would have been, that made me follow her that day. Other times, I tell myself that I abandoned all my senses and instincts for love.
The truth is that I was scared. Afraid to lose her, yes, but more afraid of who I was if I let her go in there alone.
She tugged at my hand and I found myself following her into the tunnel, though I couldn’t feel the ground beneath me. As we passed the man, his face turned but his head didn’t seem to move, like a painting whose eyes follow you around the room. His grin stayed rigid and the music became deafening.
Entering the tunnel was like walking into a sauna. The warmth pooled beads of sweat at my temples and the small of my back. A strong, sulphurous odour made my nostrils sting and the walls thrummed like an idling engine.
Anna still held my hand and I thought I heard her whispering, but the heat and the smell made me light-headed and I couldn’t see clearly. She was nothing more than a dark smudge ahead of me as we descended into the darkness of the tunnel.
We followed the passage that curved inexorably down and to the right. The pulsing indigo glow always seemed to be just around the bend.
The whispering grew louder as we spiralled deeper. It reverberated around the enclosed space but never coalesced into anything I could understand. Anna kept moving, dragging me along. The blood rushed in my ears and my legs felt hollow.
I wanted to pull her towards me, to turn her around, but the strength had fled my muscles. I wanted to beg her to follow me back the way we came but there was no voice in my throat, only the bitterness of whatever noxious gas had created that smell.
Abruptly, the whispering and the music stopped. It was silent and the fog in my vision dispersed. Anna turned to me with a look of hope and wonder in her eyes.
She said, “I think I can see the end.” Then she dropped my hand and ran.
She disappeared around the bend, where the glow immediately began to fade. I was left alone in the dark and barely able to stand. I called after her and knew that I should try to follow, but fear had taken over. I couldn’t bring myself to shuffle any deeper into the earth.
I tried to steady myself against the walls of packed earth, but the heat seemed to have drained from the tunnel. Touching the sides sent a frigid ache through my fingers and into my shoulder.
I collapsed to my knees and the tunnel spun around me. The walls began to shift and contract, closing in, squeezing the air out of the space. I tried to crawl back the way I had come, but there was no light to guide me to the exit and in the confusion I no longer knew which way to turn. The darkness enveloped me and the earth compressed my frame until my arms were clasped painfully under my torso. The ground and the walls were cold, but the air still tasted stale and hot. My breathing grew shallow and bright colours danced before my eyes.
As I began to suffocate, I thought of Anna’s face, the touch of her lips, the soft caress of her hand in mine.
Then nothing. Only blackness.
I was the lucky one.
It was a minor news story, the way they found me the next day, unconscious and hypothermic.
I was discovered inside a sewer pipe on the other side of town. No one, least of all me, knows how I got there. I’d spent the night half-submerged in grey water.
If that section of the drain hadn’t been scheduled for maintenance that day, if that sanitation worker hadn’t seen a dirty, lifeless hand sticking out of a pipe off to one side, maybe I’d still be there.
I spent a week in the hospital, unconscious for the first two days. When I woke up, my mother was sitting by my bedside, stroking my hand. There were lines on her face that I had never seen before.
The police wanted to speak to me before I was released. They asked me about Anna but I had nothing to offer. My mind was blank back then and I was as confused as they were. What had happened, what I had seen up there, only came back to me much later.
They told me that Anna was gone, and had been for at least a week before her father had thought to report her missing. The odd circumstances of my discovery had caught their attention, but they didn’t see any connection and I wasn’t under suspicion. Until my mother mentioned where we lived, they didn’t even realise I knew her.
It was the first and last time they talked to me about it.
I missed school for most of that term. It was almost Christmas by the time I returned, and I was a minor celebrity. The boy who was pulled out of a pipe. Inexplicably alive.
The search for Anna had all but given up hope. There was a memorial service in the school chapel, with her picture on the altar. The beautiful young face that I would’ve followed anywhere and almost did. I sat at the back, feeling my classmates’ eyes on me. I knew they’d heard the rumours that I had been with her before she vanished. They stopped calling me Night Fever after that. They stopped calling me anything, but they whispered behind my back whenever I walked by.
Soon after the service, the first memories stirred. Images of that terrible grin and the yawning void that exists under Hulsted Hill.
You’d think I would avoid that place forever. And for a while I did. But once the memories returned, the curiosity and the temptation began to build.
Eventually, years later, I found myself back up there. By the crater in the earth where, for a few moments, anything seemed possible. Where Anna and I swam through the air to the sound of twinkling harmonies and conjured life between our hands.
Sometimes, I still feel the warmth as I teeter on the edge of the crater, almost losing my balance. The music flits around the edges of my perception and I almost glimpse the twinkling of tiny indigo sprites at the corner of my eye.
The voice in my head will tell me to jump, insisting that I float away into nothingness and let the invisible current take me wherever it wants to.
I think of Anna, disappearing around the dark bend of the tunnel, and the grinning man leering and whispering in his rattling voice. That’s usually enough to send me back down the hill, wondering what I was thinking.
But then I always end up back there again. And I know that, one day the urge will be too strong.
I’ll need to feel that warmth. I’ll need to see what Anna saw, what the man wanted to show us.
But I still can’t do it. Not yet.