The long walk through nature finally quieted my thoughts. Birds sang the music I had longed to hear, flying from one branch to another—why did they seem so much happier than me? They appeared to enjoy every second of their existence.
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At last, I saw a small opening ahead, though my head remained heavy. The past kept rushing back, and each memory felt darker than the last. The surrounding view bore witness to everything I had endured; though I loved it. Yet the road downhill stretched ahead, long and ever-winding—the road I wished I had never chosen.
I held the old letters, their pages covered in rough handwriting and dotted with dried blood. I was merely their carrier; the young man they were meant for was still out there somewhere. With every line I read aloud, one paragraph always stayed with me: “The river will flow, turn, roll stones downstream, and rush over jagged rocks. The sail does not stop for the stone, and when it passes, the water never stops flowing.” What was he trying to say? I wondered. All I knew was that the letters were written in a voice through which he had finally found peace.
I continued downhill. Every step came easily enough. Why wouldn't it? It wasn't painful, anyway. My eyes caught a striking scene: a large golden sphere that neither faded nor wore out. It remained perpetually strong, even though a passing cover could dim its light to some observers, if not to all.
The downhill road lay in deep shadow, cast by the tall trees above. Thorns sprouted from the branches, and endless potholes were filled with either dirty or clean water. If I avoided the thorns, I would surely step into the water. Accepting the inevitable, I quickened my pace, but the low-hanging branches obstructed me. I slowed down, once again lines in the letters echoed in my head.
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Highway 212 forest road
My thoughts were suddenly cut off by a rush of wind as I stepped straight into a pool of dirty water, having successfully avoided the clean puddles. The road grew narrower; every step took time and required a calculated move. I slowed my pace, believing the destination was near. The path was a winding one, forcing me to walk or run whenever the terrain demanded it.
I was walking back to my cabin, the only place where I could speak freely. Every meter covered felt like an eternity. Along the way, I bowed my head to escape the weight of what had befallen me. The letters were tucked securely into my long black suit, heavily guarded by my hands. To a casual observer, I looked entirely coated in grime, yet beneath the surface, I was tidy. If a crowd had been there, they would have judged me solely by my appearance. Even so, I never cared to explain myself to anyone.
As I neared my small cabin, my mind was flooded by the words of Jez, my old friend.
“Ted, take this to my son and explain everything in it. I may not live long enough to guide him and be a better father,” he had said in a low tone. Every word hit hard as I watched my pal turn aside and look through the window smiling after seeing the rain about to rain. His words became permanently inscribed in my mind. We had been lifelong friends, yet the story revealed a completely new side to him.
I walked slowly to avoid the long branches, but the slower I moved, the harder the thorns pricked me. I snapped some before they could pierce my skin and ignored the rest.
I endured it all, and finally, I was inside my cabin. The building sat near a river, where I watched fish enjoy what nature had to offer. My legs were aching, and my head weighed too heavily on me; all I wanted was to clear my mind. I walked slowly and sat across from the fire. I felt dizzy, but the echoes in my head kept me awake. I needed rest, but peace of mind was what I needed most.
Suddenly, the clock chimed six o’clock—the exact time it had all happened. The machine went red, my heart raced, and I knew Jez was in trouble, since that machine was the only safe medium through which we communicated. I rushed out, closing the door behind me, and headed toward the heart of the city where he used to thrive.
In the heart of the city, that is where everything had gone down. The final stage hit me hard. The cacophony assaulted my ears, and the endless chatter from the crowd made it all worse. I walked through the throng of people, listening to what they said, hiding in the middle of them, and seeking comfort in the chaos going on around me. With every step, I was pulled deeper by my own curiosity. I had no solid plan, but I believed in their motto: “Together we can.” I walked past the crowd and toward the center of the city, approaching a building constructed for the most humble of beings. It was my usual duty to be here, but I knew this time was different. Something major had occurred, and I rushed inside to find out the truth.
the blog was originally written by me in https://medium.com/@omwegareagan9