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In the Crossroads

Short story By: Tokemies
Fantasy


The story of myself and my condition right now...


Submitted:Jan 17, 2007    Reads: 171    Comments: 3    Likes: 0   


It was dark... No, no, it wasn't dark, it was dim! It was dim evening and I was sitting in middle of the crossroads. I had seen many crossroads in my life. Actually, the whole dimention was formed by thousands of crossroads and the roads leading to them.

It was a maddening realm where only your choosing could have let you free of the horrors of eternal walking from the crossroads to another crossroads. People had been driven to the death, insecurity and insanity in the world of thousands of crossroads. It was hitch-hiking - for only one exception. Everyone knew that no car was going to pass them - or give them a lift.

They just walked and walked. From the childhood to the death. Only few have survived of this hellhole and no one has ever heard what happened to them after that. I'm regarding my surroundings. It is just like in everywhere in this world. Gabbage fields with no end including roads with no end. No one crossed the gabbage field - that's where the dead were thrown to. There was stories that if you stop following the road and cross the gabbage fields the dead would claim you and make you one of them. I, myself, have never believed that story - I just see no point in crossing the gabbage field.

People don't need to eat in this world - that's part of our curse, that is. We can walk and walk and walk til' we can not raise our feet anymore. "When your feet betray you, you're mind betrays you", people had used to say in this world. There were no communities - people followed their own roads never stopping to think about others. They knew that others had just as much hope in finding the portrait as they did. It didn't matter which road you took, all looks like the same and all feels like the same.

How rude of me, I havn't introduced myself. My name is Damu, it means Hope in our language and is kind of popular name among our people. Our people are called humen - we were once banished from the paradise and sent in here. The world of thousand roads, that's how we call it, but I guess the Lord had some different name for this. I may not know, I am part of the seventyfourth generation in here - we have suffered a lot.

I was born with the great wisdom and a will to learn. For my short childhood I learned everything that can be learned of this world. That's not much. There's nothing to learn, actually. Because of my wisdom I have been a guide for my whole life. I have helped people to get to their destination - their only possible destination in here. The portrait.

No one knows much of it. They say that the Lord had once said that "only the worthy may see the portrait and the meaning of the image" It is said that the portrait is an image of the Lord itself and the humble praying in front of it will save you. I don't believe in it. I believe the portrait to be the image of us - our nature. I believe that portrait to tell me why we were banished. And now, I am trying to find the portrait. Not to get out of here, not because I would have any hope for future. Just for curiosity.

As I said, I have been guide for my whole life. I was known as Guru - that's wisdom in our language. People lost to themselves came to me and asked for guidance. No one actually realized that my capability to guide them was only because I was lost myself. All they should have done was to go deep in theirselves. In my young age I thought that to be essential - that the people couldn't make it without me so for years I remained where I was and people came to me. Then I understood that they could not make it even with me so what's the point in staying. I knew I'm not going to live for long anymore so I decided to start my search for portrait.

Now... I sit still sit in the crossroads. The fog in the dim night makes it impossible to see where the road ends. No matter, though, I wouldn't see it even if the sun shined and there was no fog. I'm just not sure where to continue. The twist in this world is that you can never go back. If you go back nothing is like when you followed the road in first place. The only option is to take one of the three roads and not look back. Never. Look. Back. That's one of the few things I learned from my father.

.....sigh.....

Sometimes the guides need guidance too. Where shall I go? All looks the same and IS the same. The portrait is hidden - I might not be worthy to even see it. Why should I go on? Why should I stay? Why should I do anything? Why shouldn't I just go to the gabbage field and hit my head with the gabbage til' dead? What's the point in doing anything? I looked in every direction. I saw no one. There were so many crossroads that even though our race was huge there usually wern't two people in one crossroads at same time.

I looked at the fog.

No.

No.

NO!

"You shall not best of me!" I shouted and ran to the fog.

What ever will be, will be.





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