The fog and low-hanging shade of branches blotting out the moon would not clear from the road, making the crossroad nigh impossible to see until he was there. Too many were the paths to take, and even the safest carried the risk of isolation on that long bleak stretch of desert path to nowhere. Or would he take the broken trail deeper into the fog and darkness; to gamble that mystery and weathered routes breed resolution and reward.
How does one detour from a path that has no course itself?
All that was certain is that impatient pistons growled for motion and idle wheels would only sink into the muck left behind, leaving forward motion as the only choice.
My entry for this week’s Five Sentence Fiction from Lillie McFerrin. This week’s theme was ‘Detour’, which in of itself implies that there is a known path to deviate from. But that’s not always true, is it?
I hope you all enjoy!