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A quote: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” ~~ Jean de La Fontaine
I’ll start with a story …
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All Jason remembered of his dad was the angry voice, slammed doors and punched-out walls before he left and his mom began her own rapid descent.
His aunt took him in but really didn’t know how to deal with the damaged goods. He fought at school, he was tossed off sports teams, he was banned from Scouting.
But Jason was good with his hands and enjoyed construction so much that he kept his temper reined in, least he blew up that part of his life, too. The future? He didn’t think much beyond the Friday paycheck, casual female companionship and beer.
Things changed with Kat.
Saturday night shooting pool and drinking beer and she shows to gather up her cousin Pam. Pam, who laughs at Jason’s stare and introduces him to Kat. Laughs even harder at Kat’s cool regard of Jason.
Kat’s not his type, he thinks but …
He calls Pam to get Kat’s number and this time she doesn’t laugh when he tells her his plans. He wants a future beyond Saturday nights.
First steps first. One beer left in his frig. He takes it out back, winds up and pitches it down the alley. Kat may not be Jason’s type, but he decides he’ll become hers.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license.
Jane M says: I know all those stories. The ones where the hero is told he will kill his father and marry his mother so he runs away. Then he doesn’t have the necessary knowledge to avoid fulfilling the prophecy.
When I set off to make my fortune, and met an old crone sitting on a boulder near a fork in my road, I was wary.
“Which road are you taking, young man?” She sounded tired, as if she’d said this many times.
“The right fork, ma’am, to go over the mountains. I hope for work in the city of Dalecarlia. How kind of you to ask.” Short but polite, I hoped.
She turned her hands over and spread them out. A golden glow arose and died back down. She spoke. “The left road would bring you to work more quickly. The right road will bring enchantment and uncertainty.”
“Thank you,” I said. “But I’m not changing my path for a randomly met stranger. Would you like an apple?” I gave her one from my backpack and marched on.
Much later, I rounded a curve in the road, and caught up with a girl walking along. She was dressed in simple clothes and sturdy boots. She heard me approach, turned, and smiled at me. I was enchanted. She was beautiful. She was my fate.
She had an apple in her hand. “Yes, it’s your apple. I wanted to meet someone whose mind doesn’t change without good reason.”
When I heard the first rumors about the Crips and the Bloods setting aside their rivalries to join forces and throw the Kitties out of the city, I knew there’d be trouble. Nothing good could come out of a bunch of gangstas trying to take on a people who could fly between stars as easily as we went from LAX to Sydney.
So there I was, on a lonely road east of San Bernardino, trying to put as much distance between myself and the City of Angels before everything blew up, when my car’s engine coughed, sputtered, and died. In normal times I would’ve called AAA for a tow, but right now the phone lines were all so tied up I knew there’d be no way to reach anybody.
I looked back the way I’d come, trying to decide whether I was far enough away to keep from being lumped in with those idiot gangbangers. None of us could forget how the Kitties had dealt with the Norks’ attack on their First Contact fleet, or the terrorists who’d attacked their legation in the Middle East. Not just the trials and executions of the actual culprits, but also the “scruffings,” the forced relocation of whole populations to frontier worlds to become part of the Kitties’ long picket line against their ancient enemy in a war that had been going on for centuries — and I had no idea how they would understand the geography of Southern California, or how far I needed to get before I’d be out of range.
I could see some buildings in the distance. Maybe a couple of miles, although appearances could be deceptive out here to eyes accustomed to the blurring effects of city air pollution. Might as well get to walking, see if anyone over there would be willing to put me up for a night, get me connected to someone who could fix my car — or at least get me far enough away from LA that I wouldn’t get swept up in a scruffing.
I hadn’t gone far before I realized just how hard it can be to walk any distance when you’re not used to it on a regular basis. For starters, I didn’t have a whole heck of a lot of water with me. At least this isn’t high summer, but those buildings were starting to look a lot further away as I grew more footsore.
Seeing the squashed aluminum can amidst a puddle of what had probably been its contents, I cursed the idiot who’d dropped it or worse, tossed it out. How could anybody be so careless with anything drinkable out here?
Not that it did any good. But I was just annoyed enough that I didn’t hear the sound of the approaching vehicle until it was right on me.
I turned, sick dread filling my gut. Had my departure been noted, even drawn suspicion upon me?
But there was an old pickup truck with Arizona license plates, driven by a man who looked like he spent more time in the high mountain desert than the city. “You look like you’ve gotten yourself into a pickle. Hop aboard, and I can take you to a place where nobody’s going to ask any questions about why you ended up out here.”
And that’s how I ended up in this tiny town in a forgotten valley just east of the state line. It’s a rough life, but at least I’m still here on Earth.
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