The End of the Road

--- Prologue ---

There were heaps of snow and ice crystals in my way. They cracked and crunched under my heavy slow footfalls. Perhaps it seemed I was dragging my feet with fatigue. Yesterday wasn't what one could define 'another peaceful day of one's life'.

For the record, peace is not a clichéd word around here. That's because it's not a common occurrence. That's how things are around here, in this cold dark world. Any sign of peace foreshadows a tragedy to come. This is not a place for ordinaries. It's a place where behind every silently appealing moment there lies a backbiting vicious beast. Anything that is pleasing in this world allures people towards it, and men tragically fall into the trap. They just get consumed by a hidden void of darkness; just like I was.

Some people have learnt to relish that false beauty, that false pretence. And when the trouble comes, they either fall hard for it losing everything or they face it and defeat it. However those who can do the latter, they hardly exist. So far there has been only one. One person that I know of, that was able to savour the bliss and escape the calamity that was hidden. An urban legend, unnamed.

Every meter my footsteps broke into a pace slower. My metalled thighs heaved through the soft snow with pronounced effort as there was a hurricane. People say that when one turns desperate, one will turn to anything to stay alive. You can say I'm victim to this. What are you supposed to do when your flame flickers so dangerously to null, that it seems it would go out any second. What would you do to keep your flame alive, it this darkness; in this inescapable chill.

My fingers froze long ago. I could no longer feel my ears and nose. Every sound stung my drums, every breath hurt. I knew I was alive, but barely. Or was I alive? I couldn't tell. Perhaps that's because something told me that this couldn't be 'living'. I always believed that there was a different meaning to living. No matter if I'm on the verge or even over the edge. The only thing that keeps me going forward through this bleak never-ending road is my sole belief that if I could somehow reach the road's end and find out what it means to live, then maybe I can find a flaw in the chains that I bound around myself, and escape to live again.

And so I walk the infinite path, my jagged jogging, now reduced to shuffling. But I should have reached the end by now. This road which I thought would lead to my salvation, is it actually just a dead end? My breathing came out in rough unpredictable wisps. They came out in such painful bursts, that I just wanted to stop... Perhaps I have reached the end of the road. No! I'm sure I have reached. I always knew what was waiting for me at the end of this road. I just refused to come to terms with it. Under what false hope did I start this vain journey, in the hope of finding the Unnamed Legend? In hope of finding what it means to live? This road never held those answers. It's end; this road's last meter, only held death...