The walker wanted to get home. They were tired and needed to rest in their bed. He was lost.
They asked for directions and were given them, and started walking thinking this way would take them home.
It was getting dark, clouds were overhead and there was fog. The road was on a slight downward gradient, but they trusted the ones who had given directions.
They noticed that there were no signposts, no sign of humanity apart from the road itself.
Each step they took increased their anxiety, were they really going home? They looked back and there was a black fog. They were unable to turn back but they did not know why.
So they moved forward under the darkening cloud in the thickening fog.
Down they went, on this black road. They could not leave the road, they would become even more lost.
"is there anybody out there?" they shouted, but their words were swallowed by the grey fog. If there were any more people or creatures around they would not have heard.
Then the road came to an end.
There was nowhere for them to go and they could not turn back.
They had given up finding their way back home but did not expect to find this blankness, this "nothing".
Was this a hell they had been cast into or something else?
They did not know.
They were alone at the the end of the road to nowhere...
About the Creator
Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred
A Weaver of Tales and Poetry
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More stories from Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred and writers in Fiction and other communities.
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Child: "Mummy, is there a princess who weaves the Northern Lights? How does she do it? What is her name?" Children always have questions, and even when they are given answers, they have more questions. This is one of the many ways that children learn
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 10 months ago in Fiction
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The sun pierced through the gaps in the bamboo blinds across our bedroom window. Though I was already on the precipice between the waking and the sleeping world, I allowed myself the leisured pleasure of basking in the quiet contemplation that came only from lying alongside the slight but warm curves of my dear Marguerite.
By Paul Stewart2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (10)
Loved the story, Mike, and I love that song as well. I haven't heard it for ages.
When we lived in north central South Dakota I liked to remark that people told us we lived at the end of the world. I would answer, "No, but you can see it from there. And do you know why it's the end of the world? Because it's so beautiful that once you're there you don't need to see anything else." I'm guessing Oneg would be able to identify with the sentiment.
That's such a terrifying situation to be in. Loved your story!
Hmm, maybe there's a hidden path unseen because of the fog. I wouldn't give up looking
This is a story of what kind of choices that we make in living life. One that leads to nowhere, one that always leads home and one that leads us into a future. Your stories always offer ideas. Good job.
Phew!! I'd advise--no hitchhiking!
Well written and that is fantastic, when i see in the headline ''The Road to now here'' may be driver lost the road and saying some story. Walker his face lot of nervous while in the road and imagine it happen physically how we will face. Very interesting and Goodluck.
Nice one keep up the good work 👍🏼
Loved this Mike. The tension is build brilliantly and I love the way is ends. Very dystopian but fitting :) 💜
Ohhhhhhh wow Mike, This was so fab to read. 🙏⭐️🎈🖌️♦️📣