A Road To Hope | ls au

I.

The sun has dissipated into a thin sliver of orange, a barely visible piece of eternal fire hidden behind the uneven lines of the horizon, bathing the few existent clouds in warm tones. The land around looks nothing outside the definition of untouched sacredness, trees growing as they please, neighboring bushes and wildflowers.

If Louis didn't feel so terrified, he would be absolutely stunned by the view that surrounds him.

However, the rapid beat of his heart doesn't allow him the privilege of admiring the scenery, let alone feel any kind of positive emotion, or even a reminder that there's still beauty in the world.

The boots in his feet are too tight, laced around his ankles like vices, consuming any possibility of comfort. Still, he doesn't take them off, he hasn't even paid a thought to his bleeding toes since he began walking, hours before.

The thought of stopping, even for just a few minutes, to remove his boots, makes his breathing falter, to the point where he must gasp loudly for air to remind himself to breathe again. To remind himself that the oxygen around him isn't toxic; isn't burning his lungs and stealing his life away.

So, Louis doesn't stop, even though his entire body aches with each step he takes on the empty dirt road he had stumbled upon. Sometimes, he finds himself groaning out loud, voice broken and thrown into the void of the land around him, but he continues to place one foot after another.

Towards where? He doesn't know.

He's aware that he's throwing himself into the unknown, and the likelihoods of him collapsing dead on the unscathed fields are incredibly high. However, he prefers to become dust right there, to become one with nature, than to come back from where he came from.

The sea should be far away by now, the shore, a distant memory. The ships and the men, aligned with their infinity of fears and uniforms, all silenced by order, hierarchy, and war.

A breeze runs by and licks his skin raw, as if tearing him apart, but he doesn't stop walking. The sun is disappearing, the trees and rocks are the only things to witness his movements before natural light fades out altogether.

He looks up from the endless stretch of dirt in front of his feet, and spots a faraway shape, a faint dark structure that looks out of place in the immaculate horizon. He keeps on walking, eyes piercing through the distant composition, as if trying to find any signs of the image being nothing but a mirage.

He decides he's not being totally delusional when another small structure appears from behind, coming out of hiding as he continues pacing forward, discovering the piece of property bit by bit.

Underneath the sunset colors, Louis sighs and feels fear, mixed with broken hopes of finding shelter, at least for that night. It's the first rational thought he's had since he began marching.

As he continues to approach, he starts making out the shapes of a little farm; there's fences, a small livestock of cattle that scatters the surrounding fields, a cottage, and a barn.

The last piece of the sun finally sinks into the edges of the earth, and Louis finds himself tattering the darkness, a faint light inside the house and the sounds of cows guiding him. When he reaches close enough, he exits the dirt road and cuts through the tall grass, in hopes of not drawing attention of whoever lives there.

With an arm in front of his body, he palps the pockets of his uniform jacket, grabbing a small box of matches and lighting one up, just to catch a few seconds of light, a glimpse of where he's going.

About twenty matches later, he finds himself standing in front of the barn, the huge wooden door closed, but not chained shut. He hears no animals inside, and no dogs have yet appeared to protest his presence, so he slits the door open, making entrance.