Fork

Brandon Figliolino

October 12, 2010

Fork

            Just outside your neighborhood is a wooded trail, one that curls and coils among evergreens, aspens, and firs. It’s no place for a child like yourself to wander without each of your hands clasped between those of your mother and father. You explore it regardless.

Walking down the street, you carry with you your ratty pink blanket. You clutch it close to your face; it doesn’t scream or yell. The smell it exudes reminds you of memories past, makes you quiver.

            It’s autumn. The leaves have turned to vibrant hues of gold, and most have fallen to rot on the trail and underbrush. The blanket drags against the path; a magnet for dirt and bugs. There are so many trees, some as tall as the mountains, it seems. One tree you come across a good distance away, in particular, is actually quite small. It’s just a tiny sapling, and is probably no taller than you. It has few stems and no leaves. You wonder what it would look like if it had leaves.

But it’s dead. It has ceased to grow and instead, now decomposes until nothing will remain. It will become nutrients for worms, soil. Maybe its grave will be the place for a new tree to sprout, if any seeds survive the bitter frost Mother Nature will exert over the landscape.

            You continue walking into the afternoon, feeling the twigs snap and leaves crunch under your footsteps. You arrive at a conundrum: a place where to dirt paths diverge. Neither path appears to be the better choice. One descends deeper into the underbrush and out of sight while the other trail’s ascension into the hills is steep and covered with fallen trees.  

The air becomes stagnant, and your heart palpitates uncontrolled. The blanket is wrapped around your fragile body, tight like an embrace. Turning back is not an option, though you wish it were. You stand there motionless until the sun disappears and the moon takes her place in the sky.

Two voices call out your name, but the sound of them makes you cry. You ignore them and attempt to move, first taking a step towards the path to the left. Second-guessing yourself, you step back and move towards the right. When you realize you’ve been standing in the same spot for several minutes, you curl up on the ground with your blanket and stare into the darkness. The voices become faint and you realize life will never be the same.