A Musician Reborn
Prologue: Clear Night
The distant sounds of the odd car zipping by on a local highway were almost drowned out by the sounds of a gentle breeze rustling leaves and the occasional chirping of a cricket. Tonight was a rare night; cloudless, the moon was full and bright, and all was calm. Even with a light breeze the night was still fairly warm. I made it a point to take advantage of this perfect night and enjoy it as much as I could. Normally I hike during the day, but tonight I made an exception. I was out at one of my favorite, and rarely visited, places to go for a walk or small hike: Sandstone Ranch. The historic ranch was situated on the very eastern edge of town and its sizeable property included small cliffs, rolling landscape, numerous trails, and a creek. This was in addition to the actual ranch house itself, several small gardens, a barn, outhouse, ice house and well, and some more modern additions like a garage where power tools and ATVs were stored.
I had already been out pretty late on a small photo shoot in the nearby mountains. I don’t claim to be a professional photographer by any means, nor do I own any professional equipment, but photography in general has been a long time hobby of mine and I take every chance I get to capture anything that happens to catch my eye. Today I was out taking photos of mountainous landscape as the sun was setting, causing the land and everything on it to be bathed in a beautiful golden light, and while packing up to head home after the sun had set I thought it would be a good idea to go for a little hike and get some exercise. Goodness knows I could use it.
So after I had driven back into town I thought about the different places I could go for a hike. There was an extensive bike trail that lead along Left Hand Creek at the bottom of the hill in my neighborhood that I enjoyed very much as a child. There was also a path along several parts of the St. Vrain River in the southern part of town. But I dismissed those and decided on one that I hadn’t been to in a while: the dirt paths of Sandstone Ranch. I figured it would be just far enough away that at this time of day people wouldn’t be there but I wouldn’t have to drive halfway across the county to get to it. Though the funny part about that is that to get to Sandstone Ranch I have to cross a county line, even though it’s still within the city limits. Crazy city boundaries crossing county lines.
I had arrived at Sandstone Ranch’s upper parking lot where most of the trails were located to find it totally devoid of any human activity. Parking the car in a corner of the lot and stashing my iTouch and camera in the middle console, I climbed out of my vehicle and leaned against it, breathing in the clean night air. The night can certainly be a beautiful thing, and tonight was most definitely one such night. Light pollution from the city and the bright light reflecting off the moon made seeing a dark night sky impossible, but that didn’t really matter to me at the moment.
I shut the door and locked my car before heading to one of the trail heads. There I only looked out at the city I called home for nearly two full decades. A dull glow from the commercial strips along the major roads on the south end of town and the lights from the defunct sugar mill complex and silos were the most prominent features. I turned my attention away from the city and to the landscape in my immediate area. Everything was bathed in the clear moonlight, lending the landscape a bluish hue. It reminded me of all the camping trips I had ever gone on out across the Pawnee Grasslands and all the way out in Fort Robinson, a historic military fort in the northern part of the state of Nebraska, and for a moment I felt slightly nostalgic for those fun trips of years past.
Taking one deep breath and exhaling slowly, I began to make my way down the trail. I took my time since I didn’t have any particular time to be home, and as I walked I quietly observed the various plants and small formations along the way. Being a high desert plain, the landscape was covered with various very hardy species of grass and the occasional yucca bush. Various prairie dog mounds disrupted the otherwise smooth landscape. The trail I was on slowly began to descend into a very small and shallow valley that lead into the landscape immediately adjacent to the ranch house. Along the path were small marker posts that had descriptions of historic features or the general landscape. I paid little attention to these as I slowly made my way down into the valley.
I suppose maybe now would be a good time to introduce and describe myself. My name is Matt, though I go by several aliases. I suppose the best way to describe my appearance would be with the term ‘Aryan’. Tall, somewhat imposing though not very muscular build, slightly long blond hair, and grey-blue eyes. I moved to this city, Longmont, Colorado, roughly two decades ago from the military First Coast city of Jacksonville, Florida when I was only three. I didn’t have very many friends growing up outside of a few in my neighborhood until I got to high school. I met a few friends there that I kept through my high school career and beyond my college years, which admittedly were cut short. I had attended a university not far from here and made several good friends and accomplished a number of things there for the two years I attended, but a sudden realization of the direction my life was taking and an unfortunately timed illness caused me to drop out and move back to Longmont. That was about a year and a half ago now.
My immediate family had moved to Oklahoma a year ago but left me the house here so long as I could pay rent on it, and honestly the rate that had been given to me wasn’t even that high. For most of the last year I had been working at a warehouse packaging goods, but due to the nature of my employment as a contractor through an agency and as a result of a snafu in the management side of things, I was let go a few months ago with no notice. Since then I had been unable to secure a steady job and instead had to rely on day jobs and the occasional gig I could land with my band mates and high school friends Nathan and Kyle. I played the bass guitar and would provide vocals as needed and the pay was usually pretty good, but gigs were hard to land. This meant that always earning enough to pay my folks for rent each month without dipping into my savings was tough.
Tough to the point where I had begun to consider taking in roommates from my local online social ring. I knew most of the people in my online social ring personally so it wasn’t a matter of me not trusting any of them, but the problem arise when it came to most of them getting jobs in Longmont. Longmont, simply put, is a place where people travel to all the other cities around to work and do things.
But all of that was deep in the back of my mind. All I wanted right now was to enjoy the night and all its beauty in peace without worrying about any potentially pressing issues like rent or any other bills that I had to deal with. Utilities, insurance, and internet might all be paid for with the rent but I still had to pay for things like my phone and groceries, plus any incidentals.
Briefly I stopped and checked my watch. Even in the moonlight I could barely read it so I turned on the internal light for a moment. The digital display revealed that the time was roughly a quarter after nine, which I was perfectly okay with. It meant that I still had plenty of time to finish my hike and make it back home to peruse today’s photos and work on a new bass line I had written before it got too late.
Continuing on down into the valley I began to see everything open up in front of me. A thick wall of trees lined the creek in the near distance. A barbed wire fence ran parallel to the path all the way to the creek, and a single gate stood where the path crossed the fence. To the right were the small sandstone cliffs that lent Sandstone Ranch its name, and at the other end of this wall of sandstone was the ranch itself. To my left the land leveled out until it met with the creek. Everything seemed normal as I approached the gate and swung it open to pass, closing it after I was through.
Continuing along the path, which eventually led to the ranch house, I listened to the sound of the water running over rocks from the creek and the occasional cricket.
Then I heard something…off.
I stopped walking and looked around. The area was known for being frequented by foxes and coyotes, but what I heard didn’t sound like either animal. Instead it sounded like a groan of pain. I carefully scanned the area, but didn’t see anyone.
“Hello?” I called out. I heard the groan again, this time slightly louder but still soft and it sounded like it was coming from the cliffs.
All sorts of horrifying scenarios filled my head as I carefully made my way across the open area towards the cliffs. The last thing I needed right now would be to break my ankle or something by stepping into one of the prairie dog holes or getting attacked by a surprised fox or coyote.
Within moments I was only a few feet away from the base of the sandstone cliffs. It was fortunate that the moonlight was bright enough for me to see, because I didn’t have any kind of flashlight and the light from an antiquated flip phone just wasn’t going to cut it.
I slowly made my way along the base of the cliffs, calling out again. I didn’t hear a response, but I didn’t need to as I rounded a portion of the cliffs and discovered the source.