Journey to the End

I began my journey up the cloud-capped mountain range when the twinkling stars were visibly scattered across the dark midnight sky. Encompassed by the infamous Bluest of Blues Lake, the mountain towered over all things immense and meager in the country. Bordering the footpath to the heap were rows of willow trees. The dark bark on the trees creaked eerily as the wind made the moss colored leaves of the willow hum to it a cry of disheartenment. The willows draped themselves over each other to form a fairytale-like arch over the entrance to the mysterious forest. Nailed to the ground was a wooden sign that simply read:

“Expect Nothing.”

I absorbed the words on the sign and began my stroll on the long, dirt path. The light that gleamed from the full moon guided me up the dirt path lined by trees and bushes. The forestry continued the same color green throughout the woods and the smell of pine was strong, almost nauseating. It was silent besides the harmony of each breath I took and my clicking footsteps on the path. Suddenly I realized there was another sound quaintly making its appearance in the forefront. The airy sounds of flute music floated through the maze of trees. I remained on the walk being observant of the trees on each side of me and the distinct loneliness of the woodland. The whistling sound of the flute grew louder. Off to the side appeared a mesmerizing side trail which seemed to whisper my name. When I reached the path I turned onto it without hesitation.

This path was much different than the path I had originally begun on. The trees were contorted aspects colored with blues and greens. The deep orange bushes were cut into imperfect hedges and were spotted with hydrangea. The sparkling forestry perked up as I walked by. The path itself was charcoal and featured small crystals. On the sides of the path were elaborate carved designs. The moon became invisible but somehow the path was brighter now than before.

The eerie flute music grew louder with each step I took. The boundaries of the path were approaching an end as the tall trees began arching. An opening appeared at the end of the path. An old man sat around the blazing campfire. He was of short stature, not over five feet tall. Draped over his thin body was a long white cloak and his bare feet were dirty. His long unkempt beard was snow white as was his similar tangled hair. Around his neck was a handcrafted wooden flute and crescent-shaped glasses posed on the end of his drawn out nose. Wrinkles were delicately engraved into his pale skin and his blue eyes were filled with mystery. Running behind him was a creek of glimmering water and a rocky cave with a similar appearance as the path, stood confidently. The intricate carvings on the cave spoke to me as their words ran through my eyes.

I made myself as comfortable as possible and uninvitedly sat down on one of the gleaming rocks around the fire.

I sat on a stone at the campfire next to the old man. Even the stones we sat on gleamed with crystals. The man looked me over and said, “What is the question you voyaged all this way to ask me?”

I thought about the man’s question for a while. I wasn’t expecting to find this old man here. After processing my thoughts I asked, “Why am I here, old man?”

He smirked and began playing an eerie tune on his flute. There was a light breeze and at once images began dancing in the flames of the fire. The images were of me and my exact journey I took tonight. One last image of a young girl jumping into the Bluest lake danced across the fire and it blew out. I gave the man a puzzled look and left him.

I began my journey back up the path and noticed a small leather pouch hanging from a tree. I picked it up and continued on. The pouch was not heavy and did not make a sound when I shook it. I would’ve guessed that it was empty, but was starting to learn that stranger things happen on this path.

As I walked down this path full of wonder, I realized with every step I took the trees started to untwist and change into their normal green color. The once sparkling charcoal paths turned back to dirt. The moon became visible again and at once I knew I was no longer on the side path.