294 The Road Less Traveled

The proverbial fork in the road—a signpost pointing out two directions. One sign: "THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED"; the other, standard issue from the Department of Public Works: "KEEP RIGHT."

The "right" it referred to was the other road—not the "road less traveled."

To hell with that!

I hadn't come all this way to pussy out and fear the unknown. LEFT was the "road less traveled," and RIGHT was a road—some road—according to the DPW...that was the alleged right road.

What to do?

Go left for adventure and the unknown? Or go right with the rest of 'em.

I looked at the ground and saw a clutter of footprints pointed to the right. The dirt toward the road less traveled was virgin terrain, begging trespass.

I lunged toward the road less traveled, adding my footprints—and proudly! As I walked, I noticed the two roads didn't diverge much. I don't think they veered any more than 1º by the protractor's measurement.

I proceeded as the only one on my road, passing a gridlock of bodies of the other, back-to-front-to-back, waiting forever to step forward. I passed thousands. As I made rapid progress, these impatient souls gave me the most peculiar expressions, as if they knew I'd get what was coming to me.

"You'll be sorry," one warned.

What was coming to me?

Nothing was coming to me!

No, I was coming to whatever lay ahead. It was they who were immobile sitting ducks for what was coming for them. Yet, their directed grimaces were somewhat menacing in a portending—a divining—sort of way.

We all get something sooner or later.

"What about you?" I called over.

"We're born, we live, and we die. That's what! We all fall into the same hole."

"Well, then," I replied. "Wait your turn."

Ultimately, I saw the reason for their immobility. I saw the end of their road—a large hole, with desperate souls resisting the fall. The clawing of hands and digging of feet, easily explaining the lack of progress behind, were no match for inevitability, as they fell in clumps to their doom.

Meanwhile, the road ahead for me, the sole remaining one, bestowed the growth of pursuing uncertainties. One asshole does not fit all.

_____________

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Sunday, October 20, Day 294 of the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge

A Halloween story of inevitability. 366 WORDS (without A/N)

74 DAYS TO GO! THIS CHALLENGE QUEUES ON, 366 STEPS A DAY.

There are currently three Vocal writers in the bathing suit competition in this 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer (Holy)

• Rachel Deeming (Wholely)

• Gerard DiLeo (Holey)