// I wrote a THING under cut.
It was a cold, dim night. The forest was as silent as it always was. It was as though everything was in perfect balance.
Somewhere in that forest of perfect balance, there was someone walking. In stories, there would always be someone who says that going practically anywhere during the night was a dangerous thing. It doesnāt matter where you were going, just the mention of stepping outside the comfort and safety of your own residence was enough to set off someone. They have their reasons, yes, and perhaps you have your reasons to go out and be at the mercy of the dark night. The outcome would always be they are right and you are just lucky to be alive, or you are simply lucky to not encounter anything and safely made it back..
Say you encounter a bear. You barely just managed to escape. When you tell this story, they would say, āI told you so. Youāre lucky to be alive.ā Or something along those lines.
Now, say you didnāt encounter anything. They would say, āGood thing youāre safe. Luck wonāt always be with you.ā
When you think about it, it is like they are correct in both situations. Why? Maybe they just do not want to be wrong. There is still truth in their words, but they do not want to be wrong all the same.
Is that human nature? Always wanting to be right? Or never wanting to be wrong?
Ā·Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The point is, there is almost always someone who will oppose to your actions, no matter how little. Unless you are the kind of person without anybody around looking after you.
We go back to the somebody who has been walking in the woods. This somebody is a young girl. Of course she is young. Is there such a thing as an old girl? An old woman, yes, but an old girl? Nobody knows.
The girl has been walking for a while, and she is beginning to think that she got lost. She goes on walking with the hope of of finding something. Anything to ensure her that she was not going around in circles with no chance of escaping.
A thunk was heard, but she paid no mind. She could see something different in the distance. As in, something that differs from the tall trees and muddy paths. Sure enough, when she arrived, she came to a fork. There were three roads, and no signposts of any kind to guide her. The thunk was heard again. The girl did not turn towards the sound. By now, she had already acknowledged the fact that something might be following her, even though she hadnāt the faintest idea why.
She would have ignored it, as she did before, only she started hearing thumps, like footsteps. The sounds were coming from her right, and she dared herself to look.
There was nothing, of course. Nothing but the trees.
Suddenly she was reminded of a poem. It was about a traveller who had gotten lost in the middle of his journey. He ended up at a fork, much like herself, and chose his path based on a few theories he made up. The left path was the destined path. The middle path was a scenic route, ultimately leading to the left. The right path was a path that would ultimately change oneās life.
However, she didnāt know which path he took, why he took it, and what happened after that. She only knew his predictions for the three paths.
She heard the footsteps again, and this time, it sounded very, very close. So close, like it was right besideā
She gasps and jumps a bit from the surprise. Her body was stiff. She turned to look at whoever had beenāpresumablyāfollowing her.
A young man, years older than she, but young and youthful-looking nonetheless. He was grinning at her, like it was the best time of his life.
āWho are you? What brings you out in the night?ā asked he. She merely observed him, blinking a few times.
āNobody. Just a passerby.ā That was her reply, using as few words as necessary.
āOi! Iām the nobody whoās passing by! You should be telling me who you are and why youāre here, and ask me back, and I would say that Iām nobody whoās passing by!ā
His outburst of sorts stopped her from attempting to walk away from there. He really was strange... and he seemed genuinely, albeit childishly upset over how things didnāt go as he thought it would.
āWell, I already told you. Iām nobody, and I happen to be passing by this forest. So, who might you be, dear stranger?ā she asked, Her eyebrows raised just the slightest bit in interest.
āOh, nobody worth fussing about. Just a traveller on a journey.ā He was suddenly sounding casual, with a little shrug and a smile peeking from the corner of his mouth ā she wasnāt quite sure how to describe it.
āI find that hard to believe. Why would a traveller choose to travel through these lands and into a dangerous forest in the middle of the night?ā She glanced up at the moon, the only thing that was visible in the sky. Even then, it wasnāt muchāit was barely a crescent moon. Either the very beginning or the very end of the lunar cycle.
āThat is a very good question, but I do the question-asking,ā he started pacing, spinning around and pointing a finger at her, ānot you.ā
āSince when do you get to decide what is whose things? Iād say itās not fair, but thatās silly. Why, because it is. Pointless and silly.ā She gave a brief smile of satisfaction.
āWhatās wrong with silly? Thereās nothing wrong with silly.ā He responded.
āI suppose youāre going to say that you are living proof that nothing is wrong with being silly.ā She said it as a statement, a fact. She looked at him pointedly.
āQuite right.ā He muttered, glancing away. He walked closer to where the roads were divided, thoughtfully looking at each path.
āAnyway, how did you get here? I know youāre not from around here. Too strange to be.ā She watched him turn around and gave her a look.
āFrom observing these three paths, they undoubtedly look exactly the same, but theyāre not, of course. No ways to tell them apart, no way of knowing what lies beyond, and the option of turning back is out of the question.ā He more or less summed up their situation.
āYou. Which path would you take?ā
There he was again, walking up and looking at her like she had the answer to everything. He certainly had so sense of personal space.
āThe path to the right.ā She answered, shrugging.
āWhat do mean, why?ā she asked right back.
āThere has to be a reason why youād choose the path to the right. Because you see, everything has its reasons.ā He answered.
āWhy does it matter so much to you?ā she asked. He grinned at her.
āCuriosity!ā She threw back her head, but she couldnāt help smiling a bit. Just then, she heard some beeping noises. She immediately looked at him.
āWhy are you looking at me like that?ā he asked. Something was still beeping.
āI am not carrying anything with me. So it has to be you.ā She simply replied.
āTrue.ā He turned away, his back facing her. She couldnāt see what he was doing, but the beeping remained. In fact, it became louder. He whipped back at her, hands behind his back.
āWell, it looks like Iāll be going now. I know which path Iāll be taking.ā He smiled. She could only nod and smile a bit, not really knowing what to say.
She turned around, hearing a rustling sound, but saw nothing. When she looked again, he was no longer there.
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