Walking On Gilded Splinters

Introduction

This is for the PVim Challenge below, and will be a microfiction based on the song I refer to below.

It made me think of one of my favourite songs from one of my favourite albums, "Walk On Gilded Splinters" from "Gris, Gris" by Dr John, Mac Rebbenak.

Though it has been covered by many others, nothing beats the New Orleans Voodoo power of the original, and I reviewed the album here if you want to find out more.

Walking On Gilded Splinters

I don't know how I got here, I went to sleep and now I am barefoot walking on this path of gilded splinters.

I have it in my head that I can't stop.

I look back and it goes on forever, I look forward and I can't see the end.

Every step the splinters dig into to feet leaving a trail of blood. I feel like John McClane must when harassing Hans Gruber and company.

Every step is painful but I cannot stop.

I can't leave the path, the walls won't let me.

I cannot turn around, but even if I could, going back is the same as going forward.

I don't know if this is real or a nightmare but I cannot wake from it, and I take another step forward and the combination of my body weight and the sharpness of those splinters shred my feet into and hot mass of pain and blood.

Have I died or am I in some Voodoo induced nightmare? I can't be dead because every step fills me with burning pain.

Am I on the road to hell, or am I being tested? I really don't know.

I am the only one here, just one human on a path of gilded splinters, a path to oblivion on the night road of dreams.

There is no end to this.

This is my fate.

To walk on gilded splinters.