The journey to my usual spot in the mountains was always brisk, often enough my legs would burn from the incline as I travel the mountains side. I knew what awaited me each time as jogged through the venerable woods, the ancient leaves fading unto the dirt path. My breath thin, my heart raced with little joy as I neared my destination. The trees bristled with decay as approached the stone cave, short yet damp, the cave led to a quant bench that often times I would entertain. Across from the bench stood a wooden lodge, old and decrepit, a single resident remained inside. Occasionally, she leave to feed the deer and birds that frequented her home. It was always a delight to see her, her robust spirit and joyful smile always managed to calm any worries i would have about the day. She was the kind of person that would care for any individual regardless of their past. Like a mother, she would protect them, like a friend, she would be there for them.
I grew closer to the mouth of the cave, the leaves still falling onto my path, a wooden railing began to guard the path that started its incline. It became apparent that I was no longer close to my home in the docile town as I thought I was, it never dawned onto me just how far the mouth of the cave really is, or how quickly I’ve begun to reach it. Closer and closer i came until i was immersed in the darkness, torches illuminated the sides of the tunnel, brightening the wet dirt and stone path laid out for me. The moist air wet my breath, its heat warmed my skin. being in here often brought back memories of my childhood, the fear i felt standing at the mouth of the tunnel, the anxiety i would get not knowing what was ahead. It was irrational this fear i felt, I could traverse the path easily up until i reached the tunnel. How childish it seems now, the overactive imagination i felt as a child played tricks on me till the end, when a good friend blindfolded me and walked me through in the darkness. She was much stronger and braver than I, but also much younger. I was of twelve years of age and she just reaching her ninth birthday, the gap between us often caused problems with her at school, but she never seemed to mind.
unexpectedly, I came to brightness of the sun. Its fierce rays blinded my eyes and warmed my skin, but the cooling wind and cotton clouds made the warmth short lived. Perhaps it was for the best. I was now at clearing in the mountains, the soft wind glided deftly thorugh the land. I decided to walk for the remainder of my outing, I felt it safer to do so and not strain my breath. It was quite the sight however, the river leading into our small vintage town flowed with the purest of waters, as silk in the wind. The towering clock tower staggered over the entire town, with houses and shops crowding at its feet.
It wasn’t long before I reached my destination, the clean bench with its partner on the opposite side. I sat on the wooden bench that lay pristinely on the grass next to the solemn dirt road of the mountains overlooking the town. The emerald leaves that onced bellowed in the wind, holding firmly to the trees in summer, were now browned and crisp. Trapped in the thralls of autumn, left to die and be replaced in the coming spring. My eyes followed the dirt path to thick woods they entertained, bright and airy were the woods during this time of day. The last stretch of the dawn sun kissed the leaves goodbye, the rays of sunlight poured through the tears and holes of each leaf, illuminating the path. As I sat there, breathing in what little life I could, I began to think.
What can tomorrow bring? What will happen in the future, as I walk the path of uncertainty? Will this world remain stagnant as it always has, for tomorrow will bring about the same start to the same end. The sun will rise, the leaves will fall, the moon shall shine just as the sun. What impact do our lives hold in an endless cycle that has played itself out before we are even born? What is the purpose of holding onto the fading hope that tomorrow will be different, when everything has been set into stone since the beginning. These lives we live are without mercy, time is an absolute, yet there is no man that doesn’t crave it. We do so much in order to achieve the standards set by our peers, yet when we fall into the darkness of death, no one will remember us. It is a harsh truth that we must swallow, that this life is not worth living. But the weight of the gun, is much heavier than one thinks, so in the end we endure.255Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe3u1o8dolq
