Walking [Short Story]

Thud. Thud. Thud. Your footsteps are the only sound you hear, pounding against the concrete of the city streets. You are wandering through the thick, grey fog. You come to an intersection. You have to turn. Left or right. It doesn't matter which way you go. You button your dark grey coat tighter against the cold, wet late night air, and continue to your right. You walk. Walking away from nothing, yet you have no destination. There is no rush.

You look to your right and stop. In the dull light you see an emaciated cat crawl out of a trash can its unnaturally bright green eyes piercing yours. As you look into that dark alley, into that cats eyes, a sense of uneasiness sweeps over you.

Shuddering, you walk on. A black car comes out of the fog. A girl with dark, sunken eyes, and equally dark hair looks out. Staring out. Looking at something, yet looking at nothing.

And then she's gone. As the buildings lower around you, you continue walking. There is no sound, except your footfalls on the damp concrete.

As you walk on, the houses shrink and become further apart from each other. You are in the suburbs now, but still you walk.

You are not walking towards anything, nor away from anything. Yet there is no turning back. There is nothing to walk to, but it would be better that what you are walking from.

The fog thickens and envelopes you, and you shiver. Not from fear, nor from cold. Just from being there, at that time.

The path turns to grass, but still you continue your journey. Even you are not sure where you are going. Why are you walking on this cold, foggy night? Maybe because you want to. Maybe because you need to.

Whatever the reason, you continue on.

The houses beside you becomes scarce, and the road narrows. You are not walking on a path now, but just on the bare roadside.

Maybe you are walking to feel complete.

The wind picks up, and howls through the fields surrounding you. You pull you jacket closer around you. The fog is thicker now, and clings to you, its icy fingers running across your face in the wind.

You walk. Never running, never stopping. Why? There is nothing to run from, and nothing to stop for. So you just walk.

The wind stops as you get out into the country. You do not think. Time for thinking is over. Your thought will do you no good now. So you walk.

You are not walking away from anything, nor towards anything.

Maybe there is an unknown destination that you are walking towards, but you must not think of that now.

You turn down a side road. This road is dirt, but yet you still walk. You walk along the side of the road, in the long grass, grass as high as your chin.

No cars pass. You are alone. Completely alone.

Ahead, you see a forest. It is dark there. The canopy covers the road like it's a cave. Yet you feel no fear. You just walk.

The time for feeling fear is over. You begin to grow tired. Daybreak is near. Through the trees, you cannot see anything. So you walk.

Through the dark undergrowth there is a path. You walk down it, in an eerie silence. The only sound you hear are your footfalls, this time against the leafy forest floor.

Daybreak is near. You must rest. But still you walk. If you stop walking, what then?

You are at no hidden destination yet. A pale light starts to fill the dark forest. Daybreak is near.

You must rest. As the golden light of the sun sweeps across the forest your senses come alive again. You hear water, up ahead. You walk, but there is purpose in your walk now. You have a destination.

A waterfall greets you. You stop walking. You feel soft grass and clover under your feet. You look over the edge, and see the water cascading down, looking golden in the newly risen sun.

You lie down and rest. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, you feel content.

You feel complete.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Okay, we had to write a short story in English today, in second person narratation.

What do you think?