A Path Purposefully Chosen
The Sad Fairwell
I watched as a young friend departed on a Journey. I bid him farewell through tears of sadness. “Why do you morn for me”, he said, I go where I wish, happily, with purpose, and conviction.”
“Because I know your journey, I traveled it myself”, said I, “Death is waiting for you there.
“How can that be, said he, for where I go there is no danger. I see no enemy”
”I have been promised life and clarity of thought. It is a land of freedom. A land of convictions. It is a place to better understand my God and savior. Surely there is only good in this place that I go.”
“You have been altogether deceived”, said I, “there is only death.”
“It is a harsh land, given to extremes, the ground is unstable and your enemies hide within its promises. They beckon you with reason, then kill you with consequence. They feed you sweet words that turn to poison within your belly. Listen to me brother, please reconsider this journey,”
“I think not,” said he, “I am sure you are mistaken. I will leave this moment and will find my desire.” With that, I said my goodbyes. We embraced, and then he tuned and walked away.
Some time later, word of my friend’s fate reached my ears. He had died on the path, murdered. His body was found beaten and broken, frozen in the winter snow. In one hand he grasped the invitation that had taken him on that journey. The other hand had been placed over his heart, as if to speak a vow. Under that hand was found a single Tulip pink in color frozen and encased in ice. The flower had been placed there by the very men charged with his care. They were heard to say, without conscience, that his fate had been his own.
"In truth" they said, " He was never truly one of us, for if he had been, he would not have died."
My Short Stories By Abrushing1968
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