The Road

He sped down the road. I was merely a passenger, stuck in the back seat. I yelled as loud as I could that he was on the wrong road. He cared little what anyone thought because he knew at the end of the road he would find a pot of gold meant just for him. He wasn’t the kind who would share.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “the road.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

4 thoughts on “The Road”

  1. Fine Saint Patricks Day joke I’d say. I had a meeting to attend and an important lunch date after that but here I was stuck in the cab of the worlds most distracted taxi driver. I should have noticed something was not quite right when I hailed the cab and he pulled up wearing his little green leprechen suit but I was juggling my coffee and my laptop while finishing up a phone call. By the time I actually looked up he was already way off course and humming a lively Irish tune.

  2. She was out for a drive on a sunny, beautiful March day. Taking some of the secondary roads was always tempting because when she did so there was hardly ever a time that she didn’t come across something unusual and interesting. She had been having more fun than usual doing this because Alicia had recently relocated to a new part of the state. So much was new to her about the area. Intrigued when she saw a green street sign with the name “Danny Boy’s Farm” she took the turn off the main road. She drove and drove through lanes bordered by lush evergreen trees. Streams were running high because of the snow melt off the mountains. Finally, the road was much like an infinity pool in that there was an illusion that the road was merging with the sky. It was a bit disconcerting. She swore she fell asleep for a few seconds. She shook her head and blinked her eyes because the road had ended. She now was looking at a red haired farmer standing in front of an open gate. She rolled her window down and said, “Hi, where am I?” The farmer replied: “Well, lass, of course yer at Danny Boy’s Farm. Be Jesus, canna ya not see that?” And a Happy Saint Patty’s Day To YA Too!!!

  3. That same road that I’ve stared down many times before. Both feet planted firmly in the dry and dusty clay, ready to push forth with a mind full of wonder and a heart excited at the promise of endless possibilities. Both feet glued to that little patch of weather-ravaged soil, afraid to move and strike out after what I want. The fear of what’s down the stretch that’s before me, fear of what exists well beyond what my eyes can see.

  4. It was trifle disconcerting . The road was ill-frequented , one could see that . There were promises of great changes , yet to come . Ornate street lamps loomed like incongruous dinosaur skeletons , over this dusty and deserted stretch .

    Fields , sold to land sharks , demarcated by small , crumbly brick walls, and now sitting idle , waiting for land development . Weeds grew wild , dry and unruly , a vulture eyed them lazily . Cold wind blew in , and a mangy pariah shied away , giving wide berth , unaccustomed to jogging humans .

    The empty plots had discarded beddings strewn , and garbage too. Ugh ! This was a new level of disgust , when she suddenly found herself facing a high tin roof over a raised cement platform . The surrounding courtyard had been swept recently , and a small border of straggling flower bed, watered. She took some time to catch her breath , head hanging , hands on knees , panting hard. Next moment , it came to her in a flash . The road had ended , the pariah was growling at her , and the vulture had swivelled its head in their direction .

    A sign written on the walls , and the beddings discarded , she was facing an open air crematorium .

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