What's next?

I don’t know when it happened, or how it happened. It just happened. There was no specific moment or event, no specific date, no specific feeling, it just was.  

It was late, and I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, the small rays of light from the bright moon creating shadows. As usual, I couldn’t sleep, but this time it felt different. It was different. There was something aching within me, like the slow realisation that this wasn’t enough. None of it was enough.  

Let me explain. I am... or rather, I was, a mid-twenties man, with a decent enough career that paid a decent enough wage, living a decent enough life. I was single, free and arrogant. The kind of arrogance that sees a man walk into a bar alone, knowing he won’t be leaving that way. The kind of man who can approach a young lady, buy her a drink, and then know she won’t turn away. It was my life, and I was full of it. I should have been happy, revelling in my success, embracing the future, bookmarking my past, but I wasn’t. Whatever button that exists in the soul of a human being that presses ‘happiness’, I hadn’t found it. Now, I lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

Some would say I was ‘down’, to use modern parlance, whilst others would just say I was depressed, but I didn’t feel depressed. I felt excited, but for what? 

It was then that I decided to change my life. It was then that I made, quite literally, a life-changing decision. A decision that deserved to be thought through, analysed, dissected, researched and all of those things, but I did none of them. Not a single one.  

I got out of bed. The clock said 2.10am, and I knew there was definitely no chance of sleep now. My mind was racing at 2,000 mph, if that was actually possible, but I knew I had to do this before I stopped myself. It was now or never. Obviously, the worst kind of cliche, but so apt for this moment.  

The first thing I did? I got my phone and deleted. I mean I deleted everything. All of my social media, all of my apps, all of my contacts. There was nothing left. There would be no ‘mates’ contacting to see if I was ‘up for a pint later’, no sister calling me a ‘loser’ because I was still single, and no boss asking me to come in early the next morning, because someone was sick. No one could contact me. It was breathtaking and it was liberating, as I watched each individual contact scream and shout in defiance as I pressed the ‘YES’ button when asked if I really, really wanted to do this. I did. I really, really wanted to do this. Then I turned it off. I turned the phone off. I can’t remember ever doing that before, and for a brief moment I hesitated. I can’t be contacted now. Not by anyone. I was alone. I was anonymous.  

The rest of it was a blur. No, it was honestly. I actually can’t remember exactly what I did and in what order, but I know I packed a bag, big enough to take important clothing and small enough to carry on my shoulder, and I left the keys to the apartment on the kitchen table. I can’t remember if I actually wrote the landlord a note, but I didn’t care anyway. I was going. 

I walked through the streets that I knew so well. Past the pub, past the coffee shop (and I really could have done with one, but it was still only 3.30am) and past the office block where I worked. Everything looked so unwelcoming in the middle of the night, like the demons are coming out to play to dance in your dreams. Thankfully, I arrived at the train station before the melancholy got to me. After all, trying to reactivate all of my apps and contacts would take most of the day, and that wasn’t the point of this. I’d made a life changing decision, and I was seeing it through.  

It was a Welsh name that attracted me. I can’t pronounce it, and I certainly can’t spell it, but it was on the departure board, and the train was leaving in fifteen minutes, so why not? How many trains take you to your new life at 3.58am, even if it was running half an hour late? I’d never heard of the place, but it seemed right, so I got myself a coffee (yes, I did keep my card, as that really would be a mistake to start a new life without any money), and I let the ‘train take the strain’. It did that with as much effort as possible, as every mile or so we reached either a steep climb or the longest tunnel in the world. Wherever I was going, I’d be lucky to find my way back. 

Well, the place was never going to be on the top tourist trail of the United Kingdom, but it suited me. A one-horse town, if I could find a horse. It had probably 5,000 inhabitants, all of them living on either side of the main street that seem to climb halfway up a mountain. In the distance I could see the skeleton of the colliery, where many years ago, smiling miners, eyes ballooning from coal-covered faces, walked from their day’s work and straight to the pub. Yes, there was a pub, and I suddenly didn’t feel quite as alone as when I got off the train alone. It was another first for me, being the only person to want to get off at this station at this town, but only ten hours ago, I was lying in bed with apps, social media and hundreds of contacts. Now, I don’t need any of them. 

I had a wonderful meal of steak and chips and a lovely pint of beer at the pub...and the best thing? I was completely and totally anonymous. Not a single person in this Welsh wonderland had a clue who I was, and most of them couldn’t understand a word I said anyway. It was bliss, sheer bliss.  

‘What’s at the top of the mountain?’ I asked the rather attractive barmaid who was idly cleaning a glass. 

‘Nothing...’ she replied in an accent that I barely understood, ‘...it’s the top of the mountain. What do you think is at the top?’ and she turned away, her mind racing at the stupidity of the English man who had just walked into the bar as if he owned it. Still, I wasn’t here to impress her (which I hadn’t anyway), I was here to do something different. I was here to change my life. 

At the bottom of the street there was a mountain climbing shop. I think that’s what it was, but I couldn’t read the Welsh sign, but there were displays of tents and boots and clothing, so it was a safe bet. Within an hour, I’d spent around £150 on walking boots, waterproof clothing, some high protein bars and a tent. Yes, I’d bought a tent.  

I’d never put a tent up before in my life, but the shop assistant, who looked like he’d just ascended Everest, assured me that it was one of those that you just unfold and attach to the ground with metal pins. He did say that it wasn’t to be used on any type of mountain, but I wasn’t listening. After all, why would you buy a tent that wasn’t to be used anywhere outside of your own back garden?  

There was a public footpath that led from the main street up the mountain. It was empty, so I took it, climbing slowly and assuredly higher and higher. There was no plan in my mind. There never is. Plans fail anyway, so I just carried on, even if it did become quite exhausting. At one stage I stopped and looked down on the town I’d barely visited. It looked beautiful in the winter sun’s rays, and I looked forward to returning after my little adventure.  

The higher I climbed, the colder it got, so I put on my waterproofs, but I quickly realised they are only good for when it’s raining, as that’s why they are called waterproofs. They didn’t warm me, but I started sweating profusely, so took them off before I started shivering again.  

It started to get very misty the higher I climbed, and the pathway, so visible and solid, was neither now. I seemed to be walking through brambles and stumbling over tree roots, but the higher I got, the fewer there were. It was now a barren land, only inhabited by those goats that look at you as if you are crazy. I carried on, knowing that the top would arrive soon, and then I would climb back down and get a room somewhere.  

The cold started to eat away at me, making me shiver, and my teeth chatter. The ground was now icy and slippery, and the mist was so thick that I could taste it each time I breathed in. I'm not an outdoor type, and I don’t think I ever will be, but this was my life-changing moment. I wasn’t going to give in. 

It was too cold though, and the sweat was freezing on my back, and my eyes and nose were beginning to suffer. My nose was numb and my eyes watered with the sting of the water droplets in the mist. At one stage my shoulder brushed a small tree, and the leaves somehow managed to find a gap between my thick jumper and skin, depositing icy water that slowly trickled down, making me shiver even more. I had to make a shelter. 

Was I at the top? I had no idea, and by now I didn’t care, so I found a clearing and unwrapped and unfolded the tent. Yes, the assistant was right. It was simple, and within about ten minutes I'd put up a tent with a ground sheet, which was firmly attached to the ground. Easy. He was also right about it not being suitable for a mountain, as it was as cold inside as it was out, so I thought I'd make a fire, but I didn’t know how to, and I couldn’t see anything due to the mist anyway. I decided to lie down and sleep until it warmed up in the morning.  

I hadn’t bought a sleeping bag. It actually never occurred to me, and Mister Everest hadn’t mentioned it. Surely, he must have realised I’d need one?  I cursed him. This is exactly why I wanted to just disappear from society and not rely on a single individual ever again ever! I had no sleeping bag, but I did have a flat area of floor covered by a tent sheet, so I lay down and closed my eyes.  

In my dreams I saw my sister. She had always been my best friend, despite her constant teasing about me never being able to keep a relationship going. She was stood in front of me, her hair floating and her face seemingly contorted as if she was looking into one of those odd mirrors you used to see at fairgrounds. She said something like ‘come back’, but I couldn’t hear it properly, and then I was awake. My body had woken me up due to the extreme cold, and as I opened my eyes, I could see the condensation from my breath had turned into ice on the inside of the tent’s material. My eyelids seemed to be heavy, and I soon realised it was because they were covered in ice particles. I had to rub them to clear them, but some of the ice went into my eyes, causing me to cry out in pain.  

Somehow, I got to my feet, my body stiff and refusing to move. Clambering out of the tent, I could see nothing, the night had arrived in quick fashion, and the icy air was hurting my nostrils as I breathed. Stamping my feet, to try and get the blood circulation going, I thought I would walk in circles around the tent to keep me warm. My phone was still in my pocket, so I was able to use the torch, but the battery was low. It was only then that I remembered that batteries on phones use more energy the higher you are. Damn.  

The fall was expected when you think about it. The ground was like ice, I couldn’t see where I was going, and I was walking around like a drunken clown. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening, until I felt my left arm scrape against something very hard, like a rock, tearing the material of my coat and ripping a huge gash into my skin. The pain seared through my body, but I was too cold to shout or scream. Then there was the falling motion, suddenly no longer having the safety net of the ground beneath my feet. I felt my head bang against the hard surfaces again, as I fell deeper into the void. My phone disappeared, its dim torch light erasing itself as it dropped to the bottom of wherever I was going. Then the sudden crack. 

My right leg. It shattered as I crashed to the ground, and even though I couldn’t see it, I felt it crumble. Now I screamed. An ear-shattering scream that surely could be heard in the town several miles below. The pain and the agony were as intense as anything I have ever felt, as I crashed to the hard floor, my leg folded beneath me, and my arm gushing blood. It went black. 

Now, here I am. How long was I out? It doesn’t really matter. I can’t move, but I can see that I’m in some kind of stone crevasse, trapped with no way of climbing out. Above me is the sky, now clear and bright, and I know there’s a sun somewhere. There is blood all over my body, but my left arm is now completely numb, and my leg just aches, but I feel the numbness creeping over it. too I'm wedged at an unusual angle, but my head, still pounding from the concussion, is in such a position that I can look at the sky. No one knows I’m here. I can’t see my phone, and I’m not likely to get out.  

Just over twenty-four hours ago, I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling. Now I am staring at something completely different, wondering for how long.  

I made a life-changing decision. Now my life is probably coming to an end.  

What happens next?