The Pathe

The Pathe Written by: Shannon Riley There is a pathe, winding through an ancient forest. What lies upon this pathe Icannot tell, but what lies beside it I see clearly. There are graves, some for loved ones that I have lost, others, for toys and possessions, but perhapsthe most disturbing are the graves for dreams lost in the night. Along the pathethere are nameless faces looking down upon me. Some are joyous, others are sad or angry, and some are contorted with agony or twisted with hatred. Then there are the faces that are cold and empty with eyes that show their true emotions. Looking down the patheI see a sight that chills my very soul. There, growing upon the crest of a hill,is a single black rose entwined around a blade of the purest white. There is a pathe, winding through an ancient forest. What lies upon this patheI do not know, but where it ends, of that I am certain. It ends in the abyss, in an eternal darkness where both good and evil must come to rest. It ends in the abysmal depths of death. Where it leads from there I cannot say, for that is another journey, one which no one in this world shall ever know, but one that we all must one day embark upon. There is a pathe.