The Path

The Path

Note- This was inspired by my godmother's death, she was like a second mother to me. She always supported my writing; this is for her, thank you Becky! I hope you all enjoy, please review!

It was with quiet reflection that he gazed along the barren path. The depth-less expanse, so resoundingly silent, repulsed him. It was the unknown, personified before him; the fear we all feel when so abruptly faced with it, was manifesting itself within him.

It was an alien feeling this fear, it was not sheer terror, it did not suffocate, nor did it wholly consume. Rather it grew; twisted, writhed and clawed. It wrapped its black tentacles around his heart, gripping it in a cold, relentless embrace, the warmth of feeling fleeing from its touch.

The feeling of isolation weighed heavily on his chest, crushing the very air from his lungs. It brought him to his knees, his shoulders slumped and for the first time since beginning his journey, he gave into despair.

As he sat, shoulders shaking, his tears falling into the dust below him, he thought of her. Her determination that was the fuel to the fire always alight in her amethyst eyes. Her stubborn chin that she had inherited from her father, a contrast to her delicate jaw, that when set emphasized her unwavering dedication to her latest idea or decision. They were a pair that always argued; she was forever contradicting his reasoning and always winning no matter how irrational her case was.

She would have laughed at him now; shake her head, as if he were just acting like the child she had known throughout her own years as one. She had always been the more adventurous spirit, the one that pushed his rule abiding nature to leap when all he wanted was to hop.

She would have told him to get up, to stop acting so defeated. She would have hoisted him up by the arm, and pulled him down the path. She would have grinned when he stumbled and as always run ahead, daring him to catch her.

But she wasn’t there to. She wasn’t there to help him up, she wasn’t with him to help him find the will to begin and she couldn’t run ahead, leading the way. Her smoldering eyes where not there to cast their determined gaze and ignite his heart.

And yet his sobs quietened, the vision of her laughing face setting in him a new determination. She was waiting. Slowly he rose; squaring his shoulders he took his first steps, the first steps into the unknown, the first steps down the path…

The darkness engulfed him, threatening to consume him. He struggled to break free, refusing to lose himself to the misery that was tugging at the very edge of his being. He felt himself being pulled in a thousand different directions, and as he was about to succumb, he felt himself break free.

The light was blinding, so pure and radiant. Surrounding him, encasing him in its gentle glow. A backward glance rewarded him with the sight of the path he had taken, winding, twisting, and turning. At the entranced there lay a figure, unmoving, its position one of a broken man. In an epiphany he realized that the defeated figure was his own. It was the self, the shell he had discarded and left behind.

He turned his face to welcome the light, now embracing its warmth, there lay the end of the path. At it stood an incandescent figure, one illuminated in light. As he drew closer, the women’s features became clear, they were familiar. Her amethyst eyes, smoldering still with their fires, were once again cast at him.

She was smiling, her head slightly tilted, as if to ask ‘what took you so long?’ Her hand reached out to his.

He returned her smile with a slight shrug of his shoulders, silently replying ‘sorry, I lost my way. But I found it… because of you.’