We’re still not sure if the man could ever hear us. Peter Holloway says he spoke to him once. We know he’s lying. Peter Holloway is always lying about these sorts of things.

The town hadn’t known what to make of it when he’d first appeared. Farmer McDonald had been the first one to spot him on top of the hill, the new stranger sitting cross-legged, simply and quietly. He hadn’t made a fuss about it when it had come up in conversation. If anything, alerting the town to the man’s presence had been three or four on the list of Farmer McDonald’s priorities that day, landing just behind letting us all know that his Border Collie ‘Scoot’ had rolled in something foul again.

News traveled quickly after that, as it typically does in a small town. All the man ever did was sit there, silently looking forward. At least we THINK that’s what he was doing.

It’s a wonder how he didn’t starve to death, if he was human at all. No one had ever seen him eating or drinking or even sleeping. Not a single movement of any kind from his assumed position. Peter Holloway had said that he’d spotted Mrs. Collins taking her picnic basket up the hill one morning, but he may have been lying about that, too.

I think there was something about his stoic presence that put people on edge. I remember, in the earliest days, the havoc that was caused when that group of teenagers had gone around telling people that he’d gotten up and chased them away. I always just assumed they’d gone there to mess with him and had chickened out, but I don’t know.

After a while, it had started to feel like he had always been there. It was difficult to imagine looking up that hill without seeing that cross-legged figure glued to his perch. But with familiarity came no greater understanding, because try as the townspeople may, the man would never respond. He was lost in a deep, unrelenting trance.

I’d only ever had the nerve to go up that hill once. I’d found the whole thing eerie and even a little upsetting at times. The stories were enough for me. Questions, offerings, threats. There had been no shortage of attempts to coax the man out of his current state. But one day my buddy Sean had insisted. “Let’s just see what all the hype is about!”

I couldn’t say no to Sean, most of the time, and this was no exception. Curiosity had overtaken me in that moment, and I had to see for myself.

We weren’t there for very long, and we realized very quickly that we didn’t want to be. There he was, minding his own business, staring forward at nothing specific. And with his presence came a contradictory energy, both absent and plentiful.

Sean, clearly on edge, had asked me, “Should we say something?” I might’ve shaken my head, but really, I’d only stared back at the man, feeling a bit light-headed. His tattered clothes. His unshaven face. His sunken eyes locked and centered. There was nothing TO do, I’d thought.  He’ll wait and so will we.

After a few minutes, I’d noticed my head was ringing. I wasn’t sick or anything. I’d have mustered the courage to decline Sean’s invitation had I been beforehand. But my head WAS pulsing in an unfamiliar way. So, I stood there and waited, looking at the man, then over to Sean, then back to the man, my head vibrating and my ears ringing and my mind numbing. I’d had no urge to act or speak or change anything, and I don’t think Sean did, either, at first. So, we stood and waited for an undeclared signal.

It wasn’t long, though, for the tension to prove to be too much. After a few of what I would call the strangest and inexplainable minutes of our lives and a wordless glance between me and my now-visibly bothered friend, Sean and I went back down the hill, armed only with a bit more anxiety and a few more questions than we’d walked up there with.

And that was it, really, at least from my experience. Interest dwindled over time, and a few weeks later, the man completely disappeared from the hill. One morning, the town woke up to find that he was just…gone. Vanished without a trace.

At first, there were murmurs and grumbles, whispers and theories about what may have happened, some more outlandish than others. Then, gradually, the conversations shifted back to the usual topics; small talk and gossip and current events and such. It was as if the man had never been there.

I wonder if Sean had felt those same sensations, too, up there on that hill. I just can’t get myself to ask him. Neither of us have talked about it since. I’d try to explain more of it to you, if I could, but that was a long time ago.