William Johnston
Bio
Just some guy trying to figure it out.
Stories (3/0)
The Path
An open road stretched off in the distance. The end found itself at the beginning. A circle. The circle. Iterin walked along the path, passing landmarks and sketching them into his black-book. These days Iterin felt unsure of where he existed in the world. He always assumed there was more, that a discovery lay just over the next hill or just under the next rock, something that would slide the last puzzle piece into place and complete who he was. As Iterin walked and aged he became scared of that never happening, and terrified that feeling was one of greed and distraction all-together. Iterin finished sketching a collection of massive rocks in the distance. They stood hundreds of steps tall, piercing straight up into the sky. Other massive rocks torn and shaped by the wind hung off them at inconceivable angles suggesting rock-roots that reached deep into the earth. Iterin watched them as if they’d move; hoping they’d move, so he’d have a reason to chase them. But that would mean leaving the path, nobody left the path. Iterin’s mother told him horror stories of people who did, stories of hollow souls walking into long grass and never returning, stories of wayward children thinking it a way to escape their adolescence and break free from the direction the path blessed upon them. None of them returned. Those that stay on the path are sure that their end was nothing less than horrific and painful. Their lives depended on it. Their happiness depended on it.
By William Johnston3 years ago in Futurism