The Path: Change or Stay the Same - 1. The Path: Change or Stay the Same

Peace. Relaxation. Who knew Frankie Hudson needed one? He’d tell you– him, himself, and no one else. The retail world, even in a small-time consignment shop, never stopped for him. The regular customers made frequent comments as to why he was always working. His general manager abused his offer to work every weekend.

He scoffed. “Should’ve known not to say that shit in the interview.”

Three years later, this was the third weekend he had requested off during his tenure. From his campsite at the local national forest, he savored the mental image in his mind. One of the other managers running about and bouncing between registers, another clerk gawking at the absurd amount of people in the store, and the general manager calling in more employees while ducking behind the cashwrap with an army helmet on her head. It was a completely unrealistic scenario, but it still made Frankie smile.

Five nights in the fake wilderness. He had borrowed his parent’s truck and camper for the occasion. With the mini-fridge loaded with burgers, hot dogs, and other goodies for grilling, he could finally chill out. He thanked his lucky stars the camping spots to his left and right were still vacant. Across the thin road from him was an elderly couple with a lavish RV. The only interaction they shared with him was a head nod and a dainty wave.

Still, thoughts of work returned. He enjoyed his job, but many didn’t know how to react or respond to him. Even his coworkers were skittish when he was around. Not many knew how to handle someone with a mild case of antisocial personality disorder, particularly when he was beyond open about it. Many didn’t recognize the acronym, ASPD, so he often blurted out what it meant.

Sociopath. He earned many bug-eyed stares and awkward steps backward, but he understood. He had to explain it time and time again. No, he didn’t break laws. No, he didn’t act too impulsively. No, he wasn’t physically abusive. Hell, he had even cut back on the lying in the past few years. Except with Richard Gaer. That pretentious bastard came once a week to the store, demanding for specific products to be offered on the shelves. Various glassware, countless electronic cords, and unheard-of snacks collected dust, all because the shit-for-brains wanted the stuff readily available. He never actually purchased any of it. But by good golly gosh, it’ll be there for whenever he wanted it. After three months on the job, Frankie would write down the man’s requests, only to toss the notes in the trash bin when the troglodyte left.

Frankie thoroughly enjoyed the inner processes of his mind. He saw the world in a different light. Why wait for Christmas? If he desired to give someone a gift, he wasn’t going to let a fictitious jolly fat guy hold him up. For fuck’s sake, if a present sat under a plastic tree with more lights than a New York billboard, what was actually stopping him from opening it a few days early? His thoughts often led to teasing, but he recognized when and where to share. He recalled a recent shopper searching for a basketball. The man was quite pleasant, but upon being led to said ball, he exclaimed, “Wow! Just what I was looking for.”

The ASPD’s response? “No shit? You mean the one item you asked me about the moment you stepped foot inside the store? That exact item? What are you on, an episode of I Love Lucy or The Dick Van Dyke Show? Do you need a rainbow propeller hat and a paper route, sir?”

But a faint, autumn breeze blew. It distracted him from work’s frustrations. He glanced at the midday skyline. The pine treetops danced in front of the baby-blue backdrop. It was the second day of his vacation, and he didn’t wish to spend it like the first. As tempting as lounging around was, he decided to be more active. There were numerous trails to explore. Kitted with a loaded backpack and canteen, he locked the truck and camper, then set off.

Leaves bristling against each other and the ground was music to his ears. The well-traveled path remained the same for nearly a mile, aside from an outstretched root or two. Nothing excited him. No fell trees, no large boulders… Not even an excuse of a babbling brook teased him. An hour passed as he hiked.

He stopped and looked around before craning his neck back. Boredom attacked. “Fuck!” he yelled.

Another gust blew at him. He turned around to return to camp, only to spot something. His eyes followed along, and a warm smarminess took hold. A beaten path. It tickled his brain. Adventure beckoned, and Frankie took a wide step forward.

He knew he wasn’t meant to go this way. If there was a park ranger around, he’d be due for a stern scolding. Upon reaching a battered wooden sign, he could’ve grinned like the Grinch.

It stated, "I’d turn back if I were you." The words dripped with red paint. He traced a letter, discovering the wording was dry but brushed haphazardly. Globs amassed at the bottom of the strokes told of the inefficient amount of paint used.

He completely ignored the sign. Why should he have to adhere to it? A sign couldn’t think like a human, therefore it possessed no credible intelligence. And if someone else wrote the note, they had to have been inconsiderate. How pompous. To impose their will and opinions onto others. “Rude,” Frankie muttered as he continued past the warning.

The path became less and less clear, but the hiker remained confident. He found a long stick to rake leaves aside. He was still on track to his unknown destination. The question of how long he’d be walking remained. Glancing at the sunlight seeping through the treetops, he figured he had several more hours to play with. “Two more hours, then I’ll turn ba—”

A rustling of leaves interrupted him. Frankie halted. No wind had blown. Undeterred, he shrugged and sauntered onward. Another rustling– a sharper one. It came from behind him.

Turning, he was briefly alarmed. A hulking creature stood before him. It had a charcoal-colored coat. The beast appeared to be some sort of mutated wolf. Standing on two legs, it towered over Frankie’s shorter frame. Its fierce eyes were trained on the man. Frankie’s mind raced, but he was calm. Reasoning and deduction flew as he tried to understand how the unexplainable existed. The sign. The message. The creature. Bipedal stance. How Frankie wasn’t dead yet. The beast had claws and sharp, exposed teeth.

He crossed his arms, nearly completing his analysis. The animal sneered and prowled closer. A low growl was uttered.

The man pressed a finger to his bottom lip– a habitual gesture for him when pondering. After a moment, he registered how much hesitation was going on. I’m still alive, he thought.

“Aren’t you supposed to be behind a Denny’s dumpster or something?” Frankie asked.

The werewolf’s head twitched slightly before snarling.

Boldly, the man pointed. “You understood the question. Therefore, you have intelligence.” When the creature remained still with a slack jaw, Frankie grew giddy. “You wrote that sign, didn’t you?”

It barely growled.

“So that means you’re protecting something out here.” He felt a twinge of fear as the beast growled louder, taking a menacing step closer. “Whoa, c’mon! I’m not some dipshit that’ll hurt you or run away screaming. And I’m smart enough to tell you I’d keep quiet about your existence. The last thing you need is a mob of Bigfoot fanatics invading your space, right?”

Its head lowered. Not quite a nod, informing Frankie his reasoning was being interpreted and evaluated. “You understand English, that’s becoming apparent. So, what? You’re some kind of werewolf thing? Did you used to be human?”

He watched as the animal’s neck rolled. Loud cracks echoed into the forest. The furry limbs distorted, alarming Frankie. Moments passed like corn syrup pouring. The charcoal coat receded into pasty skin, and bones reshaped. Its height dwindled slightly. All the hiker could do was watch and study.

Before long, a muscular man with black, unkempt hair stood in place of the wolf. He was completely naked, but the logic made sense to Frankie. Not everyone can be the Incredible Hulk and keep their purple shorts, he mused to himself. The guy had to be a foot taller than him, although slightly younger looking. What struck him most was the blank stare.

“Dude, you’re really annoying,” the man accused. “And totally not normal. You got to be messed up to have a conversation with my other form.”

“Guilty,” Frankie admitted. “Mild sociopathic tendencies. Therapist’s words, not mine.”

“Interesting.”

Out of repetitious instinct, he sighed, only to realize he didn’t need to explain himself. His accompaniment didn’t flinch at the s-word. “Wait, interesting? You’re not concerned? Not even a raised eyebrow?”

The unnatural man crossed his arms. “Everyone’s different. Until someone does wrong, a small amount of civility is owed to those you pass. At least, that’s how I was raised.”

“I can agree with the gift of civility, but I struggle to keep it when dealing with others. The slightest irk can send it falling into the abyss.”

“Like what?” Frankie grinned and widened his stance, then told the tale of the man being led to a basketball in the store. “And that’s what irks you? Seems feeble. Yes, he’s repeating himself the second time with gusto and excitement. You are annoyed at his joy, yet I would be annoyed he went to your thrift store and not a sports shop. That is what makes more sense.”

Having a proper conversation with a nude man in the middle of the woods wasn’t on Frankie’s annual bingo card. However, he didn’t mind. In fact, he welcomed it. It was drastically different than all of his so-called chats with the store patrons. To question his own way of thinking promoted growth. How weak had he been? To be against someone’s happiness…

Realizing how silent he was, he flashed a smile. “Thank you.”

“For what? Not eating you?”

Frankie laughed. “That, too. Thank you for opening my eyes. I’ve been crude. I’ve mocked too many people. I…” He pocketed his hands, unsure what would happen next. “I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to change, but you made me want to.”

The stranger approached, for the first time in a long while. “One can’t change themselves overnight. Try as you might, sprinting is not the answer. Your goal can only be achieved through a marathon.” Resting a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, the touch was sincere and warm. “Besides, change shouldn’t be the finish line. Better yourself as a person.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Of course. The last thing I’d want is for you to be different. How many have stumbled upon me or one of my siblings, only to cower and plead for mercy. Your mind is your power.” As Frankie absorbed the teachings, the man parted. “Come find me again, will you? I’ll be waiting.”

The muscular body distorted once again. Through a series of snaps and a single roar, the wolf monster returned. The pair shared a moment of silence, their eyes meeting. Then the beast turned and darted between the trees. All Frankie could do was watch.

He pivoted and backtracked up the beaten path. “Great. Now I want Denny’s.”