AN UNSEEN HERO'S JOURNEY TO SAVE A LIFE

I don’t expect you to believe everything I’m about to tell you. You might even think I’m lying, but I swear, every word is true. Indeed, nearly every statement is accurate. The truth’s tricky like that—sometimes you don’t see it even when it’s right in front of you. But I’ll let you be the judge of what really happened that night.

It was a dark, rainy evening, the kind where the sky turns black too early and the clouds hang low, suffocating the town. I was walking home from work, not in any particular rush. My boss had kept me late again, and I was feeling sorry for myself, as usual. That’s when I saw him—the man on the bridge.

He was standing there, right by the edge, with his back to me. He had his hands in his pockets, seemingly indifferent to the rain cascading down his face, his coat soaked through. I stopped because something wasn’t right. You could tell when someone was considering jumping, and he exhibited that look. Or maybe he didn’t—I don’t know. But something about the way he stood there felt wrong.

“Hey,” I called out, trying to keep my voice casual. "Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t even turn around. I should’ve just kept walking, but I didn’t. Instead, I stepped closer, my shoes splashing in the puddles. I have always been the type of individual who is unable to leave well enough alone, you know?

“I said, are you okay?” I repeated, this time louder.

Finally, he turned. And that’s when I knew for sure—he wasn’t like anyone I’d ever seen before. His eyes were dark, not just in color, but in the way they seemed to swallow up the light around them. His face was gaunt, too pale, like he hadn’t seen the sun in years. But it wasn’t his appearance that made me shiver. It was the way he smiled at me. His smile was not one of friendliness, but rather the kind you bestow upon someone when you possess knowledge they lack.

“Do I look okay to you?” he asked, his voice soft, almost amused.

I should’ve said something smart, should’ve walked away. But I didn’t. I don’t know why. Maybe the rain messed with my head, or something else. Something about him pulled me in.

"Uh, you need help or something?" I asked, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. “Do you believe in fate?” he asked suddenly.

I wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“Fate,” he repeated. “Do you believe everything happens for a reason?”

I laughed, more out of discomfort than anything else. “I don’t know, man. I think sometimes things just... happen.”

He didn’t laugh. “Maybe,” he said. “But sometimes, people are exactly where they’re supposed to be.”

I was at a loss for words in response to that, so I remained seated, the rain lapping at my face. After what felt like forever, he stepped back from the edge of the bridge and started walking toward me. And just like that, the tension broke. I thought maybe he was just some weird guy, maybe a little drunk. People get strange in the rain.

But then he stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could see the water dripping from his hair, close enough that I could smell something odd on him, like metal and earth. He looked me in the eyes again, that same unsettling smile on his lips.

“You’re not supposed to be here, you know,” he said quietly.

My stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?”

He leaned in, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. “You weren’t supposed to see me. Not yet.”

I felt cold, colder than the rain should’ve made me feel. My instincts screamed at me to run, but my feet wouldn’t move. “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked again, my voice shaking.

He stepped back, that smile never leaving his face. “Doesn’t matter now. Things are already in motion.” He glanced up at the sky, as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. “You have two choices,” he said. “Walk away and forget this ever happened... or follow me.”

“What do you mean ‘follow you’?” I asked. My voice sounded distant, like it wasn’t mine anymore. Everything felt surreal, like I’d stepped into someone else’s nightmare.

“You’ll see,” he said. “But once you follow, you can’t come back. You cannot return to your previous state.

I don’t know why, but I didn’t run. I didn’t walk away. I should have—I know that now—but something about his words stuck in my head. I followed him, like an idiot.

He led me down the side of the bridge, a narrow path I hadn't noticed before. It was dark, and the rain was coming down harder, but he moved like he knew exactly where he was going. We walked for what felt like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Eventually, we reached a clearing, a small patch of land surrounded by thick trees.

He stopped and turned to face me. “This is it,” he said simply.

I looked around, confused. “What do you mean, ‘This is it’? It’s just... trees.”

He smiled again, that same knowing smile. “Not for long.”

And then, before I could say anything else, he vanished. I don’t mean he walked away—I mean he *disappeared*, right in front of me. One moment he was present, and the next, he vanished, akin to vapor in the breeze.

I stood there, frozen, my heart pounding. I must’ve been hallucinating, right? Maybe I slipped and hit my head while walking down the path. But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself of that, I knew it wasn’t true. I saw him disappear. I *know* I did.

That’s when I noticed something strange. The trees around me—they weren’t just trees. They were moving and shifting, as if they were alive. The ground beneath my feet trembled, and the air grew thick, making it difficult to breathe. And then I heard it—voices, whispering, growing louder by the second.

I ran. I didn't care where I ran, I just wanted to get away from that place and whatever was happening. But no matter how far I ran, I couldn’t escape the feeling that something had followed me. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it watching me, waiting.

I don’t know how I got home that night. Despite the rain having stopped and the sky clearing, I found myself soaked to the bone and trembling. And ever since then, I’ve felt... different. Like I’m not alone. I feel as though there's a presence within me, patiently awaiting its appropriate moment.

But you don’t have to believe me. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. Your belief in me signifies its authenticity.

I'm not sure I can handle that.