Walking down a path, you are reminded of the joys in life, whatever they may be.  You walk with the thoughts of life's simple pleasures in mind, often leading yourself into the dangerous condition of a lesser guard.  Trodding along rather whimsically, your thoughts are sharply and violently interrupted.  It was the corner of your eye.  Confused, your progress is halted, as you contemplate whether or not you saw something.

    Of course, it could be your eyes playing games with you, and after all, observing something via the corners of your eyes is an activity that rarely leads to an informed state of perception.  As you stop to ponder your apparent decrease in sanity, a faint chill disperses across the reaches of your mind; a sort of mental chilblain begins to plague you.  In an attempt to dismiss it, you press on; after all, your idea of fun does not exactly conform to spending a night out in the vast expanse of wooded area with nothing else than yourself, clothes, and a jacket.

    Continuing on your walk, the path ahead is easily perceivable—and is easily unfriendly to you.  Stopping for a brief moment, you stare at the issue at hand: a steep, rocky slope, of which there is no grass on the path, nor is there an easier way down.  Reluctant, you place one foot in front, attempting to find a point of excellent traction.  It works—at least for the moment.   Deciding that at one point or another would you need to test your luck, you slowly begin to move the other leg.

    In a moment of lost balance, you slide a little, but react quickly to prevent what fate would have called the "inevitable."  Heaving (or rather tossing) a slight sigh of relief, you realize that you are slowly sliding again.   Looking for options, you act too quickly; nearly falling, a brief three-foot trip jostles you momentarily.  But you didn't tumble to the hard ground—what prevented it?

    In searching for an answer, you look at the ground, examining it briefly.  There, beneath your right foot, lies a shiny object.  You balance yourself as best as you can, however you apparently underestimated.  Sliding forth quickly, you topple forward, and come to an eventual rest on the ground, fifteen feet later.  Hitting your head relatively hard on a protruding stone, there is not much thereafter that you remember.  Frankly, the last thing you do remember is hearing a metallic object hitting rocks and other hard objects, and something small and solid falling into your hand.

    Mental blackout.  Dead of night, and you finally regain a sense of yourself.  Well, that and your surroundings.  Object in hand, you observe it as best as you can.  Using a tactile, kinesthetic grace, you've determined that the object was a ring.  On top of that, it was too small to fit upon any one of the ten given digits of your hand.  Intrigued by the object, you momentarily unfasten the chain necklace that you have been wearing, and you slip the ring onto it.  Fastening it back around your neck, you begin to wonder what everyone is thinking in relation to you.  Had you been kidnapped?  Murdered?  Suicidal?  Astray from civilization?  Or conformity?  What would they say when you got home?   Would they be relieved to see your return, would you be chided for returning late, or would they flock to the screaming attention of your wounds?

    Concerned only about the future present, you try to find your way back, despite the fact that you can hardly see anything.  There was something about the night that bothered you.  Something gave you reason to suspect that you somehow had ten-step poison within you.  Unable to move any further, you felt as if existence itself was collapsing yourself into you.  Suddenly, there is a rush of a relatively unenjoyable pain, and you fall to the ground, coldly.  To the surprise of scientific law, the ring itself reacted.

    You have appeared to have awakened.  However, everything is quite different, the world around you appears relatively juxtaposed, and above all, confusingly blurry.  Looking in literally every direction to figure out where you are, the discovery you make at your feet takes your breath away—providing there was some for you to exhale.  There lay your body, gnarled in a sanguine mess.  A true metaphysical puzzle; how is it possible for you to be "seeing" your dead body?   Utmost concern and panic courses through your thoughts.  How?  Why?   Was it an actual death?  As you frantically searched for an answer, you could see a faint, regal blue glow being emitted from the ring attached to the chain.   Attempts to do something proved futile, it was five minutes later that you realized you had no influence on most things physical.  With this knowledge, you plainly stood there, watching the glow emanate from the object of your present demise.

    In the midst of your observing, you once again hear voices, however, they are not mere whispers.  Lights invade the scene, and figures rush to it.   After all of the hardship, you were finally discovered, in the woods, dead, with no post mortem wounds.  Watching in pure shock, you scream as loudly as possible for them to stop; not even a glance was given back to you.  Depressed, you feel like balling up under a rock and attempting to die again, or at least energetically decompose.   Finally, amongst the relatively eternal silence, another voice is heard, an unrecognizable one that speaks horrifying words of wisdom to you.

    "It is no use.  You no longer exist to the masses.   You are now a memory in the minds of your friends and loved ones.  Now is the time for you to move on."

   Confused, you turn around, and are surprised to see a woman clad in awe-inspiring crystalline gowns.  Behind her was no longer the world as you knew it, rather seven different reflections of existence.  She reaches out gently, and signals you to come forward.

    "You are confused, and search for an answer.  However, no responses shalt pour forth from the universe.  Before you lie the answers to the questions that you cannot and do not comprehend.  All of eternity lay before you.   Time aside, you must now leap into the realm of the truth.  This be the Crossroads of Existence.  The choice is yours, direction manipulated by your discretion.  Choose freely, and with wisdom."

    Before you can say anything, she disappears into apparent nothingness.  Could it be true?  Now, only one question remained as you stood before the seven entrances to existence—where should you turn?

The choice now doth belong to you.  A vast eternity rest before you.  Where you shall turn is of your discretion.

This page was last updated on 05.09.04.