The Treacherous Journey
forward ~
This is my first ever short story. I'd never really considered writing a short story before, I feared they had to be too clever, too pungent, too literary for my meager abilities, but a friend recently suggested I try it - so, please be honest, but kind.
The Treacherous Journey
As he, very purposely, sat down he clasped his hands together and lowered his head - he was compelled to stop and think before he took one more step. This was his very first endeavor at such a journey. Because so many others had braved this adventure before him, he knew there were hardships, for some even great peril, and he could even now, at the outset, sense some of what was ahead preparing to assault him . . . but he knew still, it was the unknown that gave him pause, that constrained him to sit, and consider well his very first steps.
While he had behind him some who shared with him an interest that he make this journey, some who even encouraged him on, he himself wasn't sure what his own interest was. He was not really the adventurous type but was nearly always content - not actually cheerful or even happy all the time, but contented, satisfied, at peace. Now he found himself confronting a task, a chore that he had to deliberate over. Knowing there was some manner of treachery ahead, but not knowing exactly what it was, should he go 'this' way or 'that', should he start off slowly or just plunge headlong into the unknown, should he try to construct from the accounts of those who had gone on before him a path to follow or might he find more success heeding his own inclinations as he went?
And what was 'success', what was he interested to accomplish? His community was not under attack, there was not a necessity that he leave the comfort and safety of his home and step further and further into this adventure - but it did seem to him advantageous to his community that some make this journey and it seemed to him a sad detriment to the community if those 'some' didn't. But what plagued him, even now as he pondered his course ahead and began plotting his first steps, was the giant question - was he one of that 'some' . . ? What was he doing here, how did he get here, what made him think that he was well-equipped to make this journey?
He was not so fearful of the unknown that stretched-out before him, the particular hardships and peril that others had reported battling on this adventure - his fear was the unknown within, the great question of ability, of proficiency, of competency . . . not how would he face the demons ahead, but would he have to face them, would he even be confronted with the hardships and peril that others had to overcome or be defeated by, would he even be counted worthy of their attention and assaults?
As he rose to his feet, his contemplation rewarded, he was leaving behind the commotion of the unknown for the surety of the familiar, turning to head home he could sense he was returning to that place of contentment, he could sense, if only a minor and inconsequential accomplishment, he had accomplished his task, he had made the journey, he had triumphed in his adventure - walking away from his desk, he had written his first short story.
