Novel & Cerita The Road

Robert looked at his driver and spoke up, "What happened? Why did you stop the car here middle of the road? It is dangerous" "Sir, I need to pee. I just come" Saying this the driver gets down from the car and runs towards the forest before Robert says something. The road was beside a deep forest. "Come soon" Robert shouted and looked around and got confused again. The road was empty. Not even a single vehicle there. And the most important thing is there is no stamp light there. The road is dark and empty. "Did he take any shortcuts? Is the r

Danielle I stared down at my dashboard console and willed the check engine light to stop the infernal red glow. How I got where I was, I had no freaking clue, which meant I had no freaking clue how to find the freeway entrance to get home. “You are an idiot, Dani,” I whispered out loud. As if on a mission from the devil, my nineteen ninety-nine Honda shuddered, then back-fired, slowing to a crawl as I inched forward down a non-descript side street. Why Portland didn’t have better signage was beyond me.

Ten acceptances. Forty days. And two people sitting on a thinking rock in the dark, holding on, the edge of a road stretching out ahead of them into whatever came next. Not a cliff. A road. Always, from now on. A road.

The road that led to the left was a brick road that was wide, clean, and looked very well-maintained and afore-traversed. Another dirt road that was even more narrow and had snow all over it continued straight. In fact, it was so poorly maintained that Rhina didn’t realize that it was a road in the beginning. It looked like no one had gone up the road to the right in centuries. Rhina was about to head up the left fork when her instincts forced her to stop in her tracks. This left fork looks quite a bit…too well-maintained, doesn’t it? I wonder who it is that cleans this road every day, she wondered.

The open landscape atop the cliffs is far too exposed—if I’m to have any hope of traveling safely, I need to head north along the edge of the woods, if not through them. As I near the trees, I see a two-lane road running along the base of the hills. My recent geography lessons tell me it must be Highway 1, a road I can follow all the way to San Francisco—if I can stay alive, that is. The road is empty, of course. It must be years and years since any vehicles drove upon it. That doesn’t mean it’s not used by walkers…or crawlers…or slithering things.

It’s not easy to make out anything else. We’re so focused on what’s in front of us and behind us that we nearly miss the road. “Here!” Anderson shouts over the sound of the roaring rain. “There’s a road here!” “In the middle of this forest?!” I shout back. “Should we follow it?!” Beth looks at me, her eyes squinting as she tries to shield them from the rain with her hands. All roads must lead somewhere. “Let’s go!” We run along the road, our jeans and pants all covered in wet mud and dirt at this point. It’s a carefully maintained road much to my surprise. It doesn’t take us long to come face to face with an entrance into what l

Drew Our vans travel three deep across the Louisville Road bridge, taking a right at the river. We trek a few more miles out into the county and then turn right down one of those old country roads. You know the kind I'm talking about. It has no shoulder, no lines down the middle, and the only people traveling it are those up to no good and the maybe five people who live down it.

I ask, my voice dropping to a deadly, quiet register. "One last run," he says. His smirk turns feral. "The old ridge road. Just you, me, and the asphalt. You win, and I smash this drive. I let you keep your perfect little life. I lose, and I get the agency contact info. Plus, you walk away from the championship game next week. Let everyone see you crawl." The ridge road. It's a notorious, unlit stretch of highway outside the city limits, full of blind hairpin turns and sheer drops. Two years ago, a kid from a rival school flipped his car there. He never walked again. It's a death trap.

By the time they found him, he was crouched on the side of the road, shaking with fear at the sight of a stray dog. Since then, dogs had become Parker's greatest fear. I couldn't believe that the very person who had caused his fear would have the audacity to give him a toy dog as a gift. I wasn't sure if I felt more anger or disappointment. Setting the box aside, I said calmly, "Thanks." Beatrice looked at me with a puzzled expression. A moment later, she seemed to remember something and said, "The power's out at Maxwell's place, so I'm having him stay at our house.

The sun, relentless and unforgiving, beat down on the dusty path leading from the servants’ quarters to the main house. I was ten, and the path was etched into my memory, every pebble, every crack. It was a route I knew intimately, yet one I was rarely allowed to fully explore. My world was largely confined to the small, neat rooms behind the imposing mansion, a world of hushed conversations and the ever-present scent of cleaning products and warm food.