Stuck at a Fork in the Road

A Fork in the Road: Damnation or Salvation?

The frantic straining and bending of the skeletal trees was played out across the worn ground in black, like some sick ballet. Shadows mocked the living, dancing around under a subservient moon. And yet they mocked me not. My bare feet pattered irregularly over the empty road, my own horrified wavering matching that of the trees. However, something far worse than the wind plagued me.

We dragged her screaming up the same road, and all of my previous excitement seemed to get washed away by fear. And a huge sense of wrong or perversion struck me. We had all talked about it, joked about it but we never seriously thought we would go ahead with it. The same scared thoughts must have been going through all of our heads. The path to the left led to my village, whereas the forest trail to the right lead to abuse, to rape and to a fate far worse. The same fate I am forced to live with, bound by the manacles of both life and death. I had to question how my life would have turned out had I removed my hand from her throat and stepped away. I had played all the scenarios through my head. An elaborate jump back and the words, “Joking!” for all to hear? Releasing her and running? And yet the forest beckoned and temptation won over, not for the last time

The shrill call of a wolf jolted me from my reverie. I found myself stuck at the fork in the road. Fear and excitement grappled with my body.

The left would carry me down into the village, the right wound off into the trees. Again I was forced to choose between the tempting allure of damnation, or freedom and safety. And yet this time I was all alone. The forest called my name, yearned for me to join it. The wolves bayed again, and I took a step to the right. The wind seemed to die around me, taking the last of the evening’s life with it. My decision was made and the trees snarled and raged in protest. And all the time my village got closer.

She had exacted her revenge upon all of us one dark, winter's night five years back. She never told anyone, simply gave in to temptation and punished us for our crime. Like us, she chose the wrong fork. And like her we bled for someone else’s satisfaction. Unlike her, we never survived.

The memory of saliva oozed profusely around my bone dry mouth. An undead groan loosed itself from my slack jaw to the sound of rotten guts churning and squelching and blending as I ran, like some vile duet. I was damned for my crimes, and no doubt damned to commit countless more. In life I had always been a pathetic specimen, but after all you are what you eat. So I could only get better.

Words: 498