The Schoolhouse

I went for a hike today on a mountain trail. It’s near my home and I’ve never been down the trail before. In fact, I didn’t even know it was there. I felt like taking a spontaneous hike today, so I drove around until I found a trail head. One of the positives to living in the Smoky Mountains. There are trails everywhere. I could probably hike a different trail every day.

This trail was just on the side of the road, so I pulled my car over on the shoulder and parked. People do this all over here in the Smokies. You get used to seeing random cars parked everywhere. Usually, the trails are popular here and you see several cars parked. This trail, however, had none. I guessed I would be the only person on the trail today. Which was fine by me. I would get all the scenery to myself. Of course, I started to wonder if it meant the trail was a bad one. Maybe it led nowhere exciting or flooded out this time of year. But I didn’t care. I would hike it no matter what.

I grabbed my hiking bag out of the trunk and headed down the trailhead. The soft dirt crunched beneath my boots as I walked. The rich aroma of mountain air and trees filled my nostrils. There was a brief hint of pine trees on the breeze reminding me of Christmas. The trip was already off to a great start.

The trail began to ascend the mountain. Roots crisscrossed out of the dirt forming what looked like a natural staircase. Having steps of sorts seemed easier than climbing a gradual incline. But I knew I would feel the burn in the morning. At the top, I stopped for a moment to retrieve my canteen from my hiking bag. Becoming dehydrated out here could spell danger for a hiker. There are so many trails, that someone may not stumble on you for hours or even days.

The path weaved around flat ground for a little less than a mile before it started its descent back down. In the back of my mind, I made a mental note that I would have to climb back up this incline on my way back. I wasn’t looking forward to it. By the end of the trail, I would be tired.

After another half a mile or so, I found a small stream with a bridge crossing it. Well, I say bridge, but it was more like a fallen log. Someone had fashioned a thin log into a bridge. It was easy enough to cross but I could only imagine crossing it in the rain. It would be too easy to slip off. Luckily, the drop was only about two feet into a small stream.

Maybe a mile or so later, I started to see something in the trees ahead. I had no idea what to except at the end of this trail. Many trails here end at waterfalls so I was hoping for the same. But whatever this was looked man made. I could see the outline of a wooden roof and walls as they appeared through the trees. It was a little peculiar. At first, I thought I had accidentally stumbled onto someone's property. But a minute later, the building fully appeared before me and I could see it was abandoned.

As I came around the building towards the front, I noticed there was no door. Just an opening where a door used to be. I could see the darkness inside and could see some table like structures but couldn’t make out what they were. With small steps, I approached the opening and peered inside until my eyes adjusted. Before me were little wooden desks. Then I realized, this was an old schoolhouse. Probably used in the late 1800’s or so.

I stepped inside to marvel at the old, wooden desks and chalkboard still affixed to the front wall. As I did, lighting cracked in the sky and made me jump. I could smell the ozone in the air. The bolt had struck close by. Then I smelled smoke. The lightning must have struck a tree. Not wanting to be caught in the middle of a forest fire, I rushed towards the doorway. But I was stopped in my tracks when a door materialized from nowhere and slammed shut. Smoke billowed from under the door and I could feel the heat radiating off the wood. I just knew the building would burn in a matter of seconds.

All around me, screams burst out and I threw my hands over my ears. They sounded like the shrieks of little children. I scanned the room, hoping to see some kids hiding in the corner but there was no one there but me. The schoolhouse groaned and creaked as it threatened to collapse. Sweat poured down my face as I searched for an exit. The wailing of an older woman came from the chalk board and I swung around to see the outline of someone as they flailed around. Her invisible hand struck the chalk board and scratched down with a terrible sound. The children's screams grew louder and I forced myself to move.

I pulled the hiking bag off my back and rammed it through one of the windows. The glass shattered and I leapt out of the building. A stray piece of glass sliced my arm, but I barely felt the pain. I was just glad to be out of that awful place. To my horror, when I turned around, the schoolhouse was gone. In its place was a brown sign which read, “On this spot in 1881, a schoolhouse once stood. It was tragically burned down after lightning struck a nearby tree. All those inside died in the fire.”

Honestly, I don’t remember the hike back to the car, but I must have made it because I’m here at home now. And I swear, I will never go down another trail as long as I live. I can’t explain what happened to me today, but I think I would rather forget it.