I wrote this story a while ago. it divided many people. some liked the mystery ending and others hated it. choose for yourself.
from the moment the sun first entered the sky the wanderer was travelling. his long coat trailed behind him as his hesitant strides ate away at the miles that lay ahead. the forest canopy shrouded the path turning the midday sun into early evening. the wind touched the leaves gently, swaying them to and fro which made the few rays of light dance around the wanderer as he went along his way. thousands of tiny creatures burrowed and scuttled on the ground oblivious to the world outside the forest. there in the sheltered green the rocks were their homes, the trees were their universe. it was into this private land that the wanderer walked. his feet trod the path reluctantly and his eyes searched the undergrowth for something and nothing. the path behind him was the same. his feet left no prints, no broken twigs or dislodged rocks. in fact there was nothing to show that the wanderer had been there at all.he walked into a clearing and was temporarily blinded by the unmasked sun. at the end of the clearing we two paths and he was reminded of ” the road less travelled”. he would have stopped to recite it had he been able to remember it. things were more vague these days. what he had once known for sure now seemed to be in question and even things that he was certain made him who he was were beyond his grasp. he took the left path and continued his journey. once more the emerald gloom descended and his heart rate quickened. maybe this time he could do it. he decided to turn round and take the other road but halfway back down the path he found himself once again walking forwards. sighing to himself the wanderer resigned himself to the road he was on and continued on his way. but the other path stayed with him, plaguing his mind with images of possibility. were the leaves different there, did the birds sing a happier song and was there a breeze to lift the spirit. as with the many times before he felt the presence behind him, pushing him down the path he felt sure he should not be on. he could almost hear the echoes of footsteps. like the memory of those who had walked the path before, pursued by the same hidden past that haunted him. it had been like this for a while now. he couldn’t go back. he could never go back. the road showed no forgiveness or mercy. it just onwards. twice more he tried to turn and twice more he found himself back on the path. his throat burned and for a while all he could think about was a cold pint of beer, condensation running down the glass and the amazing sensation as the first sip hit the back of your throat. but then like so many things the memory of faded and the first sip of beer was gone forever. he knew that there would soon be a day when he wouldn’t even remember how he started walking. the bright morning where he had woken up, dressed in comfortable clothes, opened the door and walked into the uncertainty of a new future. all he would know would be the road and the forest. on that day he was sure he would stop trying to fight it. no more turning back, just step after step towards the unknown. once again the presence pushed making him go faster. he was angry for a moment but then forgot why. suddenly he saw it. leading of from the main road was a tiny pathway lit by the streaming sun. with a shout of joy he urged his exhausted legs into a run and set off down the new path praying that it would take him somewhere new. but as the path widened it shifted back into the monotonous road he had become so accustomed to. behind him the presence laughed and his feet once again took up the march. another clearing. a left. a fork in the road. a right. the trees blurred, the birds sang and the wanderer kept walking. travelling to somewhere, to anywhere, to everywhere and to nowhere.