The Road

By Jerry Thompson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Jerry Thompson

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This short story is a work of fiction. The people’s names and places are not known to be real.

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“Let me he’p ya up, Laddie,” said the stranger. Two strong hands grabbed me on each side of my bicep and yanked me to my feet. I took a step and stumbled again. The strong hands pulled me up a second time. 
“C’mon, we’ve got to kep movin’ or we’re both goners.”
Dazed, I mumbled, “Thanks.” 
“Quite the bump ya got there.”
My head ached. I reach up gingerly touching the growing knot on my forehead. “Did you see what happened?”
“Aye, a ‘ole opened at your feet. You dinnat see it an’ you almost fell in, but you trip’d on the edge. If you fell in, you’d be gone fer good. Instead, you fell on’da Road, bump’n yore ‘ead and about to be trampled. I ‘ad a chance so I nab’ dya. Many fall, but few he’p them up.”
“Thanks for grabbing me.” 
I stuck out my hand, “My name is Chris.”
“I’m Fingal,” he said shaking my hand. “‘Ave you been on the Road long?”
“Eighteen years. I turned eighteen two months ago, but I lost my parents when the flow slowed and everybody jammed together about a month ago. In all the jostling and pushing, we got separated. I’ve been looking for them since.”
“I’ve been on it for some twenny-eight years. An’ being sep’rated from loved ones on the Road tis common. But fear not Lad, we shall walk together for a bit and he’p each other.”
The Road. 
I think a lot about the Road. Why is it here? Why are we on it?
The Road is wide. When I stand at one edge of it, I can just make out the far edge. Everybody walks it. It’s smooth and asphalt gray with a bit of loose debris swirling about. Side to side, front to back the Road is flat as a level. 
The Road is comfortable. The bright Sun warms my face and the gentle breeze that cools my brow. 
The Road offers companionship. I’ve had some great friends and we traveled together until the ebb and flow of the people separated us. 
The Road is full of people all traveling the same direction. The mass of humanity is like a stream. Sometimes it is slow and calm and sometimes there are rapids. Periodically, everybody bunches together and other times there’s breathing space between groups or individuals. Most folks treat each other well except when someone falls. The human river cannot stop. Standing against the flow of humanity to help someone up is difficult and dangerous. The odds of the Good Samaritan also being trampled are high. I’m fortunate that Fingal grabbed me.
I’ve often wondered about the Road. Who made it? You can see a long way. It is straight as an arrow. Trees or thickets obscure what lies beyond the edges and you can see mountains soar above each side of it. Sometimes there would be a break between the trunks and I could peer beyond the road for a moment before the mass of humanity pushed me on.
My eyes are drawn to the mountains. But I think: only an idiot would leave the comfort and relative safety of the Road. I’ve seen a few people strike off into the tangle of bushes. Once in a while I’ll spot small groups high up in the mountains. They look impossible to climb. Still, I wondered what’s up there.
I turned to my companion. “Fingal, what’s in the wilds and the mountains that line the Road?”
“I dunno’ laddie. Some say there are animals tha’ eat ya’, others say monsters live innit. I don’t unner’stand the attraction to go ‘n find out.”
His answer didn’t quench my curiosity. I sidled towards the wall of green along the edge of the Road. What lies beyond? I reached for the delicate leaves when a hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.
“Wha’ ja dooin’ Laddie. Some say its death just to touch them leaves. Why take the chance?”
 “I don’t know. It’s strange, the mountains, the wilds, they call to me.”
“C’mon, we best be movin’ or be trampled.”
I kept glancing sideways at the thicket along the Road and the mountains that rose beyond. Fingal’s right, it’s stupid to leave the ease of the Road.
A few days later, I spied someone by the edge of the Road. Is that a break in the thicket? A woman called to the passing crowd. As we approached, her voice got louder.
“At the end of the Road is Destruction and pain! Leave it while you can! There’s life in the wilds! Come join me. Save yourselves.”
“Fingal, what do you make of her?”
“Nut job. I’ve seen quite a few. Stan’in, sit’in or dart’in into the Road try’n to grab or convince you to run off into the wild wit’ them. Claim’in Destruction, whate’er that is, is at the Road’s end.”
“Could they be right?” 
“Laddie, the Road ‘tis way easier than the wilds. Seems you’d be swallow’d up out there faster than here. Besides, who’d put Destruction at the end o’ the Road? Makes no sense.”
The woman’s voice faded as we passed. I stole one last look over my shoulder. She had a hold of someone’s arm. The man pushed and she fell back into the thicket. Crazy, yet I still had an itch in my brain.

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Time passed, a year perhaps, and the itch in my brain lessened, but never went away. My companion, Fingal still traveled the Road with me. We had lively discussions sprinkled with laughter.
One day, Fingal said something funny. I laughed so hard, I didn’t see the woman stopped in the Road. I nearly plowed into her while she stood staring at the mountains.
“Lady, get moving or be trampled.”
“I’m a movin’, I’m a movin’. But man, look at dem mountains. I ken hear dem callin’ me. Whach’ya think is up ‘dere?”
“I don’t know. They’ve call to me too. Thankfully when I focus on the Road, their cry is faint.”
“Hmm, too bad. My name’s Chineka, what’s yours?”
“My name is Chris and this is Fingal.”
“Please t’ meet ya Chris, Fingal.
“’ello Lassie, ‘ow ‘bout you walk with us a while?”
“T’anks, I t’ink I will.”
Chineka was a hoot. She energized our conversations, but she talked almost non-stop. Our talks wove a winding path through every known topic, but each discussion seemed to circle back to wild lands or the mountains and the secrets they held. She’d get excited and was ready to charge into the wilds. More than once we had to turn her attention back to the Road. 
But, the more we talked about the wilds and the mountains, the more I thought about them. Occasionally, Chineka dared me to break through the barrier with her and see what hid behind the green wall.
One day, Fingal became angry and left us. He yelled he was sick and tired of listening to us and went looking for someone who talked sense instead of nonsense. I grieved at Fingal’s departure. I walked in silence, lost in thought. 
“Chris, look. Dere’s a break in the t’iket and someone’s standin’ dere.”
I could just make out a man’s head above the crowd in front of us. As we got closer to him, we heard him shouting.
“The Road leads only to Destruction! Please, I’m begging you, get off the Road!” A man ahead of us spat on him. The stranger wiped the spittle from his face as we drew next to him.
Chineka pulled me into the opening and out of the flow of humanity. “Let’s see what’s in ‘da wild Chris.”
“I-I don’t know.” I turned to the stranger. “Hey, how’d you know the Road leads to Destruction?”
“I’ve seen it. Just follow the Path and you’ll see it too.”
I looked into the brush and the Path that tunneled through it. Sharp thorns decorated the branches. I hesitated and looked back at the Road. Cool, comfortable and familiar, everything I knew was there. 
But I couldn’t ignore the pull into the wilds any longer. I wanted to know the mountain’s secrets. I looked at Chineka and gave a nod. With a cry of delight, she grabbed my hand and pulled me down the narrow Path. The man by the Road whooped and celebrated as we disappeared from sight.
For a long time, we wound our way around and through the vegetation. The thick air, hot and stifling, drenched my clothes in sweat. The Road was never like this and my mind filled with doubt.
“Chineka, this is stupid. I’m hot and tired and I want to go back to the Road.”
“Don’t be a dumb arse, Chris. Da Road is boring. ‘Dis is exciting. I be goin’ on. Will ya jus’ give it a day?”
“One more day,” I grumbled.
Many other Paths crossed ours, all running in the same general direction. Walking became tougher as the Path climbed towards the mountains. Soon, we broke into the Sunlight and cool breezes at the foot of the mountains. Refreshed, I looked up. From a distance, the mountains were daunting. Up close, the steep sides and rock outcropping terrified me. How are we to get up that?
“Ain’t it beautiful, Chris.”
“No, it’s not. There’s no way up. It’s impossible,” 
“We ken do it, Chris! Wait . . . Who ‘dat?”
I followed Chineka’s gaze up the mountain. Shading my eyes from the Sun, I saw a man, who must have been part mountain goat. He jumped from ledge to ledge and bounced down the hill until he stopped about six feet from us.
“Greetings,” he called.
“Greetings,” Chineka and I replied in harmony.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name and function are the same. You can call me the Guide. I’m here to help you up the mountains. The Path is narrow and steep. You couldn’t make it without me.”
“Da Guide, I her’d o’ you. Lead ‘da way, Man.”
With that the Guide turned and started up the mountain. He was right; we’d never make it on our own. He directed our hands and feet as we climbed. Even though the Path was steep and the rocks dangerous, I felt no fear. We didn’t talk much. We needed to concentrate on the Path. We climbed for hours.
“Almost there,” the Guide called down. “We’ll rest on the next ledge.”
I pulled myself up onto the ledge. For a minute, I just lay there, eyes closed, recovering from our exertions and enjoying the Sun and breeze.
“Wou’d ya look at ‘dat.” Chineka whispered.
I sat up and looked out. The high altitude made my head spin; I closed my eyes for a minute. When I opened them again, I felt like I sat on top of the world.
High above us the Sun shone through wispy clouds. Looking across the wide valley, another mountain range mirrored ours. Far below, ran the Road. It looked just as straight from the mountains as it did below. The humanity that flowed along the Road looked even more like water.
 “What’s that?” I pointed far below and to our left. A large hole opened, several people fell in and then it closed. 
“That’s Destruction,” the Guide said. “They’re holes that open randomly and anyone traveling the Road can fall in. Destruction is found only on the Road.”
“What’s in the holes?” 
“An eternity of darkness and pain,” the Guide replied.
We watched the Road for hours, especially the holes when they appeared. Sometimes they swallowed no one, other times they devoured one or two souls. One person tripped on the edge and the flow of humanity trampled them. That could’ve happened to me. Thank you Fingal.
The Guide stood and spoke. “We’re almost to the summit. The Path will be much easier there.”
As we stood, Chineka let out a scream as she disappeared over the cliff. I raced to the edge and watched her fall into the trees far below.
“Ch-Ch-Chinneekkaaaa! . . . Oh, Chineka,” I sobbed.
“Friend, why do you cry?” asked the Guide.
I stood and yelled in his face, “Chineka’s gone, destroyed!” 
“Chineka is gone, but she is not destroyed. I told you Destruction only comes to those on the Road. She may be bruised and a little battered, but she’ll find the Guide and climb the mountains once again.” The Guide turned and followed the Path. Relieved, I dried my tears and followed him.
Soon we were on the summit. The Path clearly followed the ridge of the mountains. 

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Years passed, the beautiful peaks and alpine valleys were a joy to climb and sometimes the Path meandered a bit, but it always followed the Sun. Often, I’d look below to the Road where destruction lay hidden and my heart cried every time someone disappeared into a hole.
“What’s happening to the Road?” 
“This is where the Road narrows. The people pack together becoming a solid mass of humanity. Look over there,” the Guide pointed to the right. “Do you see the big gate?”
“Yes.”
“Just past the gate, the Road becomes steep and slippery. Soon, the people will fall and slide down the slope into a giant hole. Destruction. There they will suffer for all time.”
“But that’s not fair!” I cried.
“The Sun shines on all, the breeze refreshes all and the mountains call to all. Many hear, but only a few follow the voice of the mountains. Witnesses line the Road and there are Guides stationed throughout the mountains to lead people up the Path to the narrow gate. We’re almost at the gate. Do you see it yonder?” the Guide said.
Looking ahead, I saw a wall about eight feet high; in it was a gate, it stood about seven feet tall and two feet wide. Beyond the wall rose a large mountain into the sky, and on its sides stood a great city bathed in radiant Sunlight. The golden light lit up pearlescent spires. A wide, gently sloped apron of green grass and trees lay before the city. I could see people walking on it. Birds fluttered about and children and animals played together. Peace and joy seem to shimmer in the air.
I smiled and hurried down the Path ready to pass through the gate, the Guide running behind me to catch up. I stopped just short of the gate. My head turned and I looked down at Destruction at the end of the Road. 
“If I pass through the gate, will I be allowed to return?”
“No,” replied the Guide.
“Do I have to go through the gate now?
“No,” replied the Guide.
“May I go and try to warn the people and direct them to the Path?”
“Yes, for a time,” smiled the Guide.
I turned jumped down the mountain to the Road.

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"Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. Matthew 7:13-14. (NIV)
 
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About the Author:
Thank you for reading this short allegory. I’m 51 and never aspired to be a writer and yet here I am, an Accidental Author. I live in Lima, NY married to the same women since 1988 and I have two grown children. By day, I am a Network Administrator and by night, host/design web sites, repair computers and write when compelled.

You can find more of my writings at
http://accidentalauthor.com