The Road Not Taken の小説・ストーリー

He simply stood by my side, supporting me through everything. And I grew to love this gentle, thoughtful man. Together, we built a life. We had a beautiful child. Later, when Allison returned from her travels and told me she had seen Derrick frozen to death by the roadside, I was stunned for a moment. It had been so long since I last thought about him that his name felt foreign to me. But I only smiled, not lingering on the thought, and picked up the freshly hunted prey I had caught. My mate and child were waiting for me at home.

“Is that too much to ask?” I took a deep breath and stood. That’s when I saw it, just ahead, between two skeletal trees. A road. I blinked. Froze. A road. That shouldn’t have felt strange, but it did. It was paved, cracked, and slightly overgrown along the edges, but definitely man-made. And I didn’t recognize it. At all. No signs. No markings. No passing vehicles. Just… silence. “What the hell?” I whispered, stepping closer until my boots touched the edge of the asphalt.

Cain replied and my smile dropped. It was a desolate path, void of life, dark and snaky, nestled between huge rocks that seemed to strangle the path at each end. Cain spoke about it like a land of milk and honey, but when we approached it, I noticed that barely any grass grew on these dry, blackened grounds. The air here was a bit different too, but it was the only thing that wasn’t dead about the Whispering road.

I pulled out my duffel bag and quickly packed up my few belongings. Suddenly, Carlo kicked the door open in anger. Seeing the bag by my feet, he sneered and kicked it over. I frowned and glared at him. "What's your problem?" "I should be asking you that, Rosa! Are you pulling that same trick again? You didn't die last time you jumped into the river, so where are you planning to go this time? Are you going to send another suicide note again?"

Liora The road to the hill is an ascent into another world. The car struggles on the winding, perfect road, lined with hedges trimmed to the line. Here, the very air seems different—colder, thinner, filtered by wealth and remoteness. With each turn, my childhood home, buried in the shadow of the valley, seems to shrink, to fade away. A stain of dampness and sorrow drowned in the arrogant green of the estates.

More through ordinary Octobers, in fact. Because most of the time was ordinary. Most of the path was not the threshold. Most of it was the road between thresholds. And the road was not lesser than the threshold. The road was where the real living happened. Where the fire actually tended itself. Where the conditions actually built. One ordinary day at a time. I got up. The October morning continuing outside.

I thought about the specific and building quality of the water behind the thing. I thought: it's going to happen. I thought: and you are in the car with him. I thought: and that is all right. The road appeared. "Here," I said. "Turn here." He turned. The road was the one I remembered, the specific and particular quality of a Connecticut back road in November, the stone walls on either side, the particular and skeletal quality of the trees without their leaves, the way the road curved through the landscape with the unhurried and specific quality of a road that had been there long enough to know where it was going and was not in a hurry to arrive.

The road no one had thought to guard began as a gap between two leaning pines. Caleb stopped the lead truck at the edge of it and stared through the windshield with open disgust. “No.” Gabriel stood on the running board, one hand braced against the door frame. “This is the service trail.” “This is a deer having a nervous breakdown.” “It widens after the first bend.” “Does it widen into a road?” Gabriel paused. Caleb closed his eyes. “I hate you a little again.”

When it came time to fill out our college applications, my family focused all their attention on my brother, who suffered from severe claustrophobia. My mother pored over the dorm room sizes at several universities in our city. "Let's just stay local," she said. "It's closer to home, and it'll be easier to take care of Cyrus." Maya Simmons, my girlfriend of three years, even changed her first choice, giving up a university where she had planned to study political science and law in favor of a local teachers college. "Don't worry, Mrs. Lockwood," she said. "I'll stay here and keep him company. I'll look after Cyrus for you throughout all four years of college." My father looked at her, v

Fenrir POV By the time we reached the northern edge of the village, I was beginning to understand why the old road had been abandoned. The southern route was wide enough to accommodate two merchant wagons traveling in opposite directions, with enough room along either side for pedestrians and riders. The northern road, on the other hand, had nearly disappeared beneath years of neglect. Grass grew between the uneven stones, thick roots had pushed sections of the road upward, and branches extended so far overhead that the trees formed a canopy above much of the entrance.