Cold Night, Colder Company
by Eric Dogini
It’s eleven p.m. on a Friday night, and I’m out in the backyard with a case of Bud Light and two red lawn chairs tucked underneath my arm. Waitin’ for a friend.
I set up the two chairs on opposite sides of a firepit. The hearth’s a bit makeshift; just a mess of sticks surrounded by some stones. It’ll work. I strike up a match, then toss it into the pile. The flame’s a beacon; without it, he’ll get lost.
From there, I sit myself down in a chair and wait, looking out into the dark Appalachian expanse. Sky-high pines shrouded in moonlight. Soon he’ll emerge from there, sauntering out of the shadows.
Any second now.
A light breeze comes in, swaying the trees out in front of me. The nighttime chill creeps in through my jacket, clashing with the warmth of the firepit. My friend’s got to be out there: he’s most comfortable when the air’s cold like this.
A couple more minutes pass. Beers are startin’ to warm. An owl calls from within the wild.
Is he coming?
One crunch. Then another. Something moving through the woods, stepping on leaves. It’s rhythmic: one-two, one-two, one-two. Thing’s got two legs. Got to be him.
One-two, one-two.
And there he is. Mister Grim, hobbling out from the forest. Wearing scraps that may have once been clothes. Smelling like damp earth and sulfur. Grey, leathery skin stretches across his face, strung out like a frayed sweater.
“How’s it going?” I call.
“Going great,” he says, his voice hoarse. He comes forth and lowers himself down into the empty chair, arms shaking. “Pass me a Bud.”
I toss him a lukewarm can. He catches the can, then raises it to the sky. I mirror him. “To a good chat,” he croaks.
“Indeed,” I say. We crack ’em open, then drink.
“You’ve been calling for me quite a bit lately,” says Grim. The fire’s smoke comes up over his face, partially concealing it. “What’s it now, Wendell?”
“Nothing too serious. Just that same nagging thought.” I take a sip. “I’m thinking I want to leave this place, Grim. It’s killing me.”
“What place? Are you talking about this world? ’Cause trust me, you’re not the first person with that sentiment.”
“Not necessarily. It’s Appalachia in particular. I’ve been stuck here all my life, and I’m getting tired.” I gesture out at the sea of evergreens. “For me, these trees are startin’ to look more like a fence than a view.”
Grim tilts his head. “So you want to explore, huh? You think it’ll be any better out there?”
“You don’t get it. Things don’t change ’round here. I see the same faces, the same personalities; I don’t hate it, but I need something different. Even if it’s just for a bit.”
“And it’ll be wonderful out in this other you’re thinking of, right?” He smiles at me with two rows of blackened teeth. “Places where you can’t even see the stars at night.”
The fire crackles in front of us. Sparks fly out onto the grass. I look down at the gold wedding band around my finger, glowing in the firelight.
My gaze turns to Grim. “C’mon, man. You know why else I’ve got to go.”
“Of course.” He laughs. “You’re still on the old wife, huh? Gotta escape the memories?”
“I’ve come to terms with her passing. She was at peace, and that’s all I could’ve asked for.” I set the beer down next to me. “You see, after you and I last talked, I realized that it was always Martha keeping me here, making it seem like the whole world was in Appalachia. Even now I can see her pacing around the kitchen, going on about the house we built and ranting about rude city people. Without her, I’m stuck in limbo.”
Grim downs the rest of his beer, then tosses the can into the flickering fire. “There’s nothing out there for you. Don’t you know what’s going on these days? World’s falling apart. Soon enough, everything’s gonna burn.”
“I’ve been hearing that lately. Nowhere’s good these days, huh?” I sigh, then stare up at the stars. “Where am I supposed to go then?”
“Easy. You come with me.” His eyes peer into mine. “You’ve been considering it, haven’t you?”
A cold wind sweeps across the yard. In its wake, the fire begins to dwindle.
“I have.” I look out towards the forest, then back at Grim. “But I have ties. If you’re asking me to go right now, I can’t do it.”
“Sure you can. You’ve been out in those trees before; you know how simple it is. Just come back with me, and I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”
I shake my head. “There’re little voices that call me uncle. Old friends that keep in touch. Got to visit them all from time to time, y’know,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
“That’s what’s keeping you? Some people you see a few times a year?” He bellows with a mixture of laughter and hacking coughs. “You want to be a hero: fine, then. But don’t you think that Martha needs you, too? What kind of man are you, making her wait?”
Chills run all through my bones. The flame’s warmth is a million miles away. “I don’t know what Martha needs. And I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that. About all this.”
“I’m aware. That’s why we’ve been talking lately, no?” He leans in, hands balled together. “You want to go. You’re sure of it, but you keep arguing with yourself. Why?”
“’Cause I don’t know what it’s like where you come from. And it might not be much better than this.” My hands tremble in my lap. Too damn cold.
“Well, then, I’ll admit that it’s different from what you know. But I promise, it’ll be easier than what you’ve got going on. Far easier.”
“And how do I know you’re telling the truth, Grim?” My lower lip quivers as I force out the question.
“You don’t. But we’ve been talking long enough; you know it doesn’t matter.” He leans back. “I’ve said my piece. You’ve got reservations, and that’s fine. Just think it over, alright?” Slowly, he starts to lift himself out of his chair, arms shaking just as they did before.
“You heading out?” I ask.
“Sure am. But you’ll have me back soon. Won’t you?” He grins at me, his lips cracked, then turns to the forest.
I watch as Grim stumbles off into the trees, his exit barely lit by the tiny flame between us. The faint smell of ash hangs in the air. He glances back at me one last time before he goes forth into the darkness. In those hollow, black eyes of his, there’s an invitation: a call to enter the void, to let it all go. The trees are left split like an open gate.
What do I want? This difficult world, the one I’m so used to; or whatever lies beyond?
I’m sitting there alone, shivering as the frigid air bites my skin. The fire hisses before me, begging for fuel.
I reach out to feel the warmth. Slight, but the heat’s there. It’s there and I lit it. Without me, it goes up in ash. Everything I built... No, everything Martha and I built. Gone forever. I can’t let that happen. Not after all these years.
My hands still shaking, I reach into the matchbox. One match. Just one’s all I need. Takes a few strikes, but it lights. I toss the match into the hearth, sparking the flame into a sudden blaze. Waves of heat come out, scorching the hairs on my arms. Out in the woods, I hear the rasping cough of my old friend. Not yet, Grim. Least for right now, I want to keep this fire lit.
Copyright © 2025 by Eric Dogini
