Sitting at a Crossroads
My butt is cold. It really is. I must have been sitting here for hours now. I hate sitting on the ground, where get my pants dusty and dirty. I am not even doing anything worth doing. I am just sitting; legs crossed, with my chin resting in my hands. The sun is no longer warming me overhead, but it is sitting on the western mountains on the horizon. If I stay here any longer, my butt wont be the only thing that is cold.
I am not even going to bother turning around again. I have looked behind me at least twenty times today, and nothing has changed. I know that there is a straight road that leads back to where I started. Where did I start? I can't really remember, but I don't feel like going back there anyway. It isnt like I can go back. I must continue forward, but... This crossroads has me paralyzed.
Yes, the crossroads is depressing the hell out of me. There are at least five roads in front of me, and none of them are straight. Actually, it looks like many of them are winding. It even looks like little paths are branching off in many of the roads I could take.
It is not that I am a coward, or that I am afraid of continuing. That is not it at all. I have faced bandits, wolves, tigers and three headed dragons on this journey. I have pursued and been pursued. I have been shot at, screamed at and thrown out of more motels than I would like to remember. No, I am not afraid of getting hurt.
It is the damn fog that makes me nervous. It is all in front of me, obscuring the view. I cannot see where any of the roads go. The last thing I want to do is go tromping off into the fog in an unchartered territory. I am likely to step off a cliff, or go for a swim in a pool of quicksand.
While the fog is bad, I still have a general idea where many of the roads lead. There are some old signs put up by old travelers who have come this way before. Some signs point towards the mountains, others point towards the sea. There are many old signs made of wood, and nailed crudely to a wooden post. I touched one of them and it fell right off, the arrow spinning crazily as it fell to the ground. So much for reliable information.
I wish I could just take off down one of those roads. I cant seem to remember where it was that I was heading though... did I want to go to the sea? Or were the mountains my final destination? I cannot remember, and I don't know if I care. It I ever had a map, it got lost long ago. I think I forgot it at that tavern with the bartender that had that strange mole on his left eyebrow... or was it his right eyebrow? I cant remember... I probably left it somewhere else. Actually, I think I forgot to buy it.
I don't know why I am still talking. The sun setting, and I still don't know where I am going. Dang, my butt is cold.
I am not even going to bother turning around again. I have looked behind me at least twenty times today, and nothing has changed. I know that there is a straight road that leads back to where I started. Where did I start? I can't really remember, but I don't feel like going back there anyway. It isnt like I can go back. I must continue forward, but... This crossroads has me paralyzed.
Yes, the crossroads is depressing the hell out of me. There are at least five roads in front of me, and none of them are straight. Actually, it looks like many of them are winding. It even looks like little paths are branching off in many of the roads I could take.
It is not that I am a coward, or that I am afraid of continuing. That is not it at all. I have faced bandits, wolves, tigers and three headed dragons on this journey. I have pursued and been pursued. I have been shot at, screamed at and thrown out of more motels than I would like to remember. No, I am not afraid of getting hurt.
It is the damn fog that makes me nervous. It is all in front of me, obscuring the view. I cannot see where any of the roads go. The last thing I want to do is go tromping off into the fog in an unchartered territory. I am likely to step off a cliff, or go for a swim in a pool of quicksand.
While the fog is bad, I still have a general idea where many of the roads lead. There are some old signs put up by old travelers who have come this way before. Some signs point towards the mountains, others point towards the sea. There are many old signs made of wood, and nailed crudely to a wooden post. I touched one of them and it fell right off, the arrow spinning crazily as it fell to the ground. So much for reliable information.
I wish I could just take off down one of those roads. I cant seem to remember where it was that I was heading though... did I want to go to the sea? Or were the mountains my final destination? I cannot remember, and I don't know if I care. It I ever had a map, it got lost long ago. I think I forgot it at that tavern with the bartender that had that strange mole on his left eyebrow... or was it his right eyebrow? I cant remember... I probably left it somewhere else. Actually, I think I forgot to buy it.
I don't know why I am still talking. The sun setting, and I still don't know where I am going. Dang, my butt is cold.
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