Where The Sidewalk Ends Poems By Shel Silverstein Novels & Stories

26 The trail grew darker as Sidney ran across the dirt in a panic. She craned her neck to glare at the creek behind her. When she turned back, the night blotted out the light to consume her. The nightmare became only the sound of her crunching footfalls. She sprinted blindly into the black. Then the streetlight appeared. She leaped toward the light, and when her foot landed in the circle of illumination, the ground went liquid beneath her. Her shoe vanished beneath the gravel like quicksand. Before she could stop it, her other foot followed.

Silver energy arced through the air like broken glass a s the ground cracked beneath my feet. I took a great, trembling, last breath. Then— Everything turned white.

Streetlights flickered unreliably, casting eerie shadows that danced on the wet pavement. She quickened her pace. Her shoes squished with each step on the waterlogged sidewalk. She was already late—so late that she had missed the last bus, leaving her with no choice but to walk home. Shivering and muttering prayers under her breath for courage and safety, she crossed an empty road, ignoring the red traffic light. The streets were deserted; there was no soul in sight, only the wrath of nature howling around her.

“But now I think… maybe the quiet ones matter more.” River kissed her forehead. “Quiet doesn’t mean small.” “No,” she agreed. “Sometimes it means safe.” They stayed there until midnight, the city humming beneath them, their hearts finally at rest. And somewhere far below, on the sidewalk in front of The Story House, someone paused and read the inscription carved into the steps: “This place exists because someone decided to stay.”

Or just the quiet determination to keep moving forward, to build something good from all the wreckage. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, I whispered one final thing to Liliana's grave: "This isn't the end. It's just where the silence finally stops.”

The traffic is heavier here, cars edging forward, headlights flashing as the sun dips lower. Sophie’s dog wriggles suddenly, pulling free from her hand. ​“Sophie!” Before I can grab her wrist, she lets out a soft gasp and runs after him. He darts ahead, paws skidding across the sidewalk before veering off toward the curb Everything happens in a blink. A silver car turns onto the street, faster than it should. Sophie’s foot lands in a shallow pothole, and she stumbles, catching herself on her palms just inches from the curb.

“Come out, come out. There’s nowhere to go. This story only ends one way.” Pressed to the icy wall, air puffs fog from my lips. Inside the fabric fold of my skirt, hands shake reaching for the slender metal - my mother’s old hairclip. Not meant to fight. Meant to speak. Should I vanish, perhaps it gets seen. Perhaps by him. A small flash of silver slipped through my fingers, dropping straight down into the crack by the doorway where the wood had started to rot. Into the unseen space beneath, it disappeared without a sound. A sliver of space widens as the door groans. Out there, framed by dimness, she moves like shadow given shape, slow, sure.

All for me, their only kid, chasing dreams of independence. After dinner, I slipped out the back door, the screen creaking shut behind me. The backyard was modest, a patch of grass bordered by a wooden fence, fireflies blinking lazily in the twilight. I wandered down the street, my sneakers scuffing against the sidewalk, the evening air cooling my flushed cheeks.

SYDNEY It was a typical Friday night, and I had just clocked out from my shift at the bar. The hustle and bustle of the night had subsided, leaving the city streets eerily quiet and dimly lit. As I walked alone, my breath formed little clouds in the chilly air, and I clutched my coat tighter around me. The neon lights from nearby establishments cast flickering patterns on the sidewalk, creating an unsettling dance of shadows.