I have only ever known the Road.
Every moment of my life has been spent walking. Though my feet are blistered and bleeding, I cannot stop. There is a force that compels me to keep moving.
Occasionally, I see others on the Road. We all move at our own pace--some run, others crawl. I walk, as I have always done. Even though we all know where the Road ends, we still make the journey.
I am finally near the end of that journey. Off in the distance, I can see the End. I can feel the heat. Hear the screams. The End scares me like nothing else, but I can't stop myself from walking toward it.
My muscles scream with every step. My skin cracks and peels under the harsh sunlight. I have grown accustomed to the agony, and it hardly slows my pace at all. This day is no different from any other.
Until suddenly...it is.
For the first time, I see something that surprises me. There is a sign off in the distance--there are always signs, but this one looks different. As I get closer, I see why. Someone, perhaps another traveler, had written over it.
The message is so obvious, I can't believe it hadn't occurred to me already. And yet, in all my time on the Road, I had never even considered the two words on that sign, written in blood.
TURN AROUND
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