Cross Roads Novels & Stories

The celestial pathways branched into myriad possibilities, a kaleidoscope of potential futures, and the stood at the nexus, poised to shape the next chapter of their cosmic journey. The astral currents intensified, carrying the tothemd a nexus of pivotal choices. "This is the crossroads of your cosmic tale," the enigmatic figure intoned. The celestial tableau unfolded, revealing moments of decision, each radiating with the iridescence of possibility. With a sense of urgency, they faced a cosmic crossroads where destinies entwined and the echoes of choices reverberated through the vastness of the cosmic canvas.

People screamed and ran for their dear lives. The vegetables were still on the windshield. Daniel turned the wipers on to make him see clearly. He left the market and turned to the right lane and drove past a street. He saw a traffic sign that read stop. The road had four cross lanes. He drove to the right, entering the wrong lane again. Cars were coming foward and he was also coming foward. He moved left and right trying not to hit cars. The cars on the road tried to move away. There were horn sounds and tyres screeching. Some cars ended up hitting each other and going out of the road.

Maybe when I get my first client, I’ll revert back to playing the perfect wife once again. The mall was just on the other side of this crossing. I stood at the crossroad as I waited for the crossing signal to turn green. Suddenly, in the corner of my eye I spotted an old lady walking along as if she was oblivious to the oncoming traffic. I wasn’t sure if she couldn’t see very well or if she couldn’t hear but what I knew for sure was that it was extremely dangerous. As I watched her, I realized that she was about to cross the road with all the oncoming traffic.

Owen is going in August. Four nodes. Amsterdam. Madrid. Seattle. Portland. And here: a creek in Minnesota, a man and his mother building a bridge that was designed to be wide enough for two people to walk across together. On the third day the bridge was done. It was not large. Eight feet across the creek, three feet wide — Mina had wanted wider, Karl had made it wider — with a rail that was simple and strong. Mina walked across it first. She stood on the other side and looked back at us.

Before the woman could even react, Patrick shoved her aside impatiently. "Enough already. Get lost. You're just here to leech off the traffic from my livestream." Straightening his tailored suit with an exaggerated poise, he turned back to the camera. "Everything's clear now. This woman bought her ticket from some no-name lottery shack in some backwater village. Obviously, she got scammed." His words did not spark relief among our classmates and lecturers. Instead, they looked regretful.

Wind howled through the gap, making the entire structure sway dangerously. "We'll have to find another way," Luna said immediately. "That bridge won't hold all of us." I walked to the edge and examined it. "The structure is compromised, but passable for one person at a time. We cross individually, spacing our departures by three minute intervals." "Thelma, no." Xavier grabbed my shoulder. "Look at it. Half those boards are missing. One wrong step and you'll fall." "The probability of successful crossing is approximately sixty three percent if proper caution is exercised."

Thinking about how everyone had ostracized me back then because of Victor and how Adam was the only one who cared for and looked after me, I decided to go. I drove toward the address he had sent, but halfway there, I was flagged down by a stranded motorist whose tire had blown out. He was waiting for roadside assistance. I always kept a toolbox in my trunk, so I stopped the car. But as soon as I opened the door and got out, I saw Victor standing up, covered in motor oil while saying thanks. When he saw me, surprise flashed in his eyes, but then he hesitated, not daring to approach me. I made a sound of acknowledgment. Putting down the toolbox, I was about to get back in my car and leave.

The nerves in my body quietly tensed. Soon, a sleek black car pulled up at the building. Thomas's eyes lit up, and he eagerly waved his hand. "Babe!" Imogen stepped out, impeccably dressed in a cream suit, cradling an enormous bouquet of roses.

“I won’t—I won’t ask again—” “You won’t,” Marcus agreed. The word landed like a door slamming shut. Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Suffocating. The morning traffic continued around them, but it felt distant, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them on that crosswalk. Marcus leaned in just enough that his voice dropped even lower—private, dangerous, the kind of calm that promised worse things if ignored. “I could make you disappear,” he said evenly. “And no one would ask questions.”

"May I walk across it?" "Of course." One of the engineers hurried forward. "We'll accompany you." The wooden planks echoed softly beneath my feet. I slowed often, studying the work as carefully as I could. Truthfully... I knew very little about building bridges. So instead of pretending otherwise... I asked questions. "How many people use this crossing?" Samuel answered immediately. "Nearly everyone from the eastern villages." "They bring produce to the market." "The children use it during the school term." I looked down at the river below.