The Paths

Under the azure sky there was a road divided into two directions. It was
surrounded by endless tender and lush grass that had witnessed lifetimes pass
and egos die throughout countless years.

In the middle of the grass however, there was a tree. The tree was the enemy of
the grass. The tree was barren of leaves and wore frail bark that fell off the tree
on an internal timer. On the inside of the tree, clicking insects feasted on and
demolished the walls of the once towering monument of the world.

The grass often scowled at the tree and examined its decaying state. Unlike the
grass which was a gift to the world, the tree was a curse and was the cancer
bestowed upon the nature packed road.

Beside the road, footprints of creatures both predators and prey were etched
into the ground. Each footprint was completely distinguishable from another,
it was as if every beast's personality was expressed in their imprint.

On both sides of the road there stood monstrous flowers that when combined
formed a natural wonder by themselves. They whirled in the wind for their
blissful exercise routine and when finished dropped their heads down in
succession.

Ants that had traversed the whole nation trudged along the flourishing
landscape, they continued their journey and marched on even throughout the
most dire of conditions, never stopping even though they heard a thundering
sound of doom in their microscale hearts on many occasions.

Below the tree, and on the left direction of the road there was an exit out of the
endless electrifying environment. Along that road there was a small body of
water that was the first in thousands of miles. The turquoise liquid grasped the
eyes of travellers on the trail, warm blooded and cold blooded alike and
demanded they fixate on it, not letting their eyes go until it was sure that the
minds of each and every explorer was bewitched by it.

Tire tracks of motorcycles were chiselled into the floor and brought modernity
into the plain and untainted trail. The motorcycles roaring activated the
eardrums of every beast and plant in its vicinity and reminded them why they
were no longer seen as majestic as they once were in the eyes of man.
In the distance, on the right direction of the road a spacious and antique farm
filled with livestock was built into the ground. Its roof caressed the clouds and
its eyes glared at nosy onlookers. It had remained with its owners and their
past generations, never surrendering to the harsh and ruthless elements even
though the elements were as dedicated as a wolf stalking its oblivious prey.

Beside the farm, in a house equally as ancient with creaking doors tired of
their jobs, The owners layed comfortably on their bed dreaming about their
own personal utopia. They were completely exposed to the minions of evil and
their diabolic plans.

Everyday, they were awoken to the chirping of handsome robins and clucking
of soon to be slaughtered fowls. Bacon that had an aroma of used plastic bags
and scrap paper was cooked thoroughly and placed on the gargantuan table
ready to be consumed in seconds.

Outside they worked until barrels of sweat flowed from their faces and their
muscles turned stiff. Marauding mosquitoes that felt their stomachs growl and
who craved blood from the two legged creatures working like Trojans prowled
the landscape.

As the sun set and all signs of life retreated, the road remained to guide
wanderers and ensure they weren’t lost in the realm of the road divided into
two paths.