Heather Goad

The Road to Nowhere

Ricky stood at the forest's edge, taking a break under a huge cedar tree, he took a sip of the lukewarm water he had boiled and bottled up from the murky stream behind him. Taking out his most valued possession, a 1950s spyglass made of gold he had found in the attic of an old farmhouse he had spent the night in a few weeks before, he perused the vast empty landscape ahead of him. He hated to leave the protection of the dense forest but moving forward was the only way to get to where he was going. Where he was going was a mystery, as mysterious as the strange heart-shaped locket he had also found.