The Long Walk

The sun beat the Earth. It's gaze withered trees and grass, cracked dirt paths, and made it so that the air-conditioning would be on at full tilt in every home across the county. Unfortunately I was not in one of those homes; I was walking home from school. The sidewalk stretched out in front of me, like a long straight, gray snake. It seemed like it went on forever, although I knew in my mind this wasn't the case: my house was only a mile and a half away, “a nice relaxing walk” as my mom had called it that morning. Usually I ride my bike home and back, but it got caught under a street sweeper last week and I haven't been able to repair it yet. Some girls rode past me, their short skirts fluttering in the breeze. They were laughing amongst themselves and they waved to me as they sped by. I didn't know them, but I waved back anyway. They turned the corner at the end of the block and I was alone. I had the block all to myself. There were birds chirping in the trees, although they seemed to stop suddenly as I walked past. All I could hear was the constant “thwap, thwap, thwap” of my shoes as they hit the ground. There was no rumble of passing cars, no rustling of wind in the trees, just the sound of my shoes and the heat beating on my forehead. I wiped my brow and when I flicked the beads of sweat off my hand they crystallized in mid air, as if they were ice. They shattered on they ground and melted instantly in the heat of the sun. I stood there for a second or two, but then a passing car shook apart the silence and sound rushed in around me. Startled, I started walking again.

As I turned round the end of the block I heard singing. I looked around and saw that it was coming from a little old lady sitting behind a table across the road. I wandered over and saw that she was selling apple juice.

“Hey there sonny,” she said, cracking a toothy grin, “you look like you could use some juice.” My throat was suddenly incredibly dry.

“Yes, please,” I rasped.

“Here you go sonny.” she said, handing me a white plastic cup filled with amber colored liquid. I took a long swig. It was probably the worst apple juice I've every had; it was so bitter that you couldn't even taste the apples. I turned to ask for my money back, but the old lady and the table were gone. I kicked the air where she had been and continued on. One more block down I thought to myself as I neared the end of the street, only ten more to go.

The next street was just as desolate as the previous one: not a soul to be had. I supposed this was because of the heat. I saw, when I crossed the street that there was a girl waiting on the other side. As I got closer I realized that she was one of the girls that had rode past me earlier.

“Weren't you on a bike earlier?” I asked as I neared closer. She turned around suddenly and said:

“You scared me right out of my skin! Didn't your mother ever tell you not to sneak up on a girl. Anyway, how did you know I was on a bike.”

“Excuse me, I'm sorry , I didn't mean to scare you. You and your friends passed me a few blocks ago.”

“I remember you now. Anyway, I hit a rock and totaled my bike. My friends are taking it to my house so I wouldn't have to carry it.”

“Why cou;dn't you carry it?  You look like you're fine to me”, I said, looking her over.

“Oh no, I'm quite wounded.” she said cheerfully, pointing to a large gash on her left leg. The wound was leaking bright red blood which was dripping down, leaving a darkening trail, which squirmed like a snake on the sidewalk.

“How horrible.” I said looking down at the gash, “where do you live? I could carry you if you liked.” I though myself quite chivalrous with my offer.

“My house is just a block or so away; I'd love to have you carry me.” With that, she clambered into my open arms. She smiled at me after she had gotten comfortable and said “Take me home.”

I walked on, wobbling a bit at first as I got used to her weight. We were silent as I walked along, although occasionally she would lift her head and flash a big smile at me. I could feel the heat of the sun on my neck. Sweat dripped down the back of my shirt. It slid down my arms and pooled where my body and hers met. Our liquids intertwined there, swirling together until finally falling down, onto the sizzling sidewalk. Then I was at her door. She climbed out of my arms and I was going to say goodbye when she planted a long hard kiss on my lips that left me gasping for air. Before I could say a word the door was sliding shut and I was out on the porch all alone. I turned back and continued down the street, thinking how nice it would be to be back home.

The next block was dominated by a church. I remember because my parents used to take me to bake sales there when I was younger. The steeple always seemed so big to me, piercing the sky like a needle, scratching it's way into the heavens. As I turned the corner I saw that the street was covered in a thick layer of fog. The heat of the sun was gone and a chill filled the air. I took one look back at the sun filled street behind me before pressing on, into the dense grayness ahead of me. Within the fog I could barely see two feet in front of myself. Even my feet were obscured, hidden under the thick dense blanket of grayness. I looked up and the black outline of the steeple loomed up in front of me. I headed towards it. Soon I felt the soft earth of the church's graveyard beneath my feet. I struck a stone hard with my foot and fell painfully to my knees. I probed the fog with my hands, searching for what I had tripped upon. My hand felt the edge of a large rock, and I crawled closer, and suddenly I was face-to-face with a large tomb stone. Moss crawled across it's exterior like snakes. I swept it aside and saw my name engraved in the dark, rough stone. My mind told me it must belong someone else, but an icy chill penetrated my bones and I was overcome with terror. Ignoring the pain in my foot, I dove back into the all-enveloping fog, eager to get as far away from the stone as possible.

Up ahead I saw the soft glow of light, illuminating a small circle of fog. I neared closer and found that the light was hanging above the front door of the church. The door was ancient, cracks and wrinkles crisscrossed over it's wooden surface. In the center was a big metal handle, circled by an image of a blazing sun picked out in rough iron. Below the handle was a small key hole. It felt icy as I moved my fingers over it. I grasped the handle in both my hands and pulled as hard as I could, hoping that the door wasn't locked. The door slid open with a loud, soul shattering creak which echoed throughout the cavernous insides of the church. I stepped inside, and suddenly an image of my house flashed across my eyes. My mother was on the porch waving to me, soft wisps of steam rose from the batch of cookies she held in here arms. Almost as soon as it had appeared, the image was gone, enveloped by a think fogginess within my mind. I turned to leave when I saw that the door had disappeared. I was alone in the cold, dark, unforgiving church. I looked around frantically, searching for another way out. Looking for any source of light that would guide me out. Then, I saw a small shimmer of light, all the way at the far end of the church, tucked in neatly behind the altar. Through the gloom I could see that it was a door.

I ran. My strides short and quick as I passed row upon row of uncomfortable wooden seats. I bounded up the stone steps of the altar, the sound of my shoes echoing eerily off the church walls. Out of breath, I paused a minute. Looking around, I saw that the area behind the podium was ornamented with a large golden statue of Jesus, it shone with a dull metallic sheen as it loomed over me. Behind Jesus, the wall was decorated with stone carvings of angels, they were flying with their wings outstretched, all smiling peacefully. Having captured my breath, I left Jesus and his angels behind me and rushed down the small corridor. When I reached the door, I found that it was much the same as the one I had entered from. I reached out to grasp the handle when a voice from the shadows whispered “You have sinned, and you shall be punished.” Startled, I fell back, crashing into a candle stand. The candles clattered on the stone floor, their white bodies exposed, shining softly in the darkness. I looked up as the old lady from the lemonade stand stepped out of the shadows. She was dressed in a long, flowing, white robe. Atop here head was a hat not dissimilar to the hat of a bishop. Around here neck was a golden chain, from which a large golden cross hung.

“You have sinned,” she said, the words sliding across her lips, like snakes, “you must repent or face eternal damnation!”

“I have done no such thing,” I said as I scrambled to my feet.

“You have; I saw.” she hissed. “You drank the apple juice and you aided the girl. You have sinned and disgraced yourself in the eyes of God.”

“I merely did what I though was right. I shall not repent for that!” I yelled, my voice echoing owlishly.

“Then you are a heretic, an enemy of the Church. You will burn like those before you.” She lunged forward, her eyes full of venom. I jumped back, out of her reach, and ran. I didn't look back. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart as I rushed down corridor after corridor, turning left and right in a effort to lose her. After a few minutes, I stopped, out of breath. I looked back and saw to my horror that she was standing at the end of the passage, her white robe billowing out behind her.

“No one can escape God's wrath!”, she screamed, her voice like old men's fingers across a blackboard. It scraped against my very soul. Suddenly she was over me. She grasped the cross from around her neck and split it in her hands. The thin, shimmering, silver line of a knife's blade shone in the darkness. She raised her hand, and brought it down hard, but I was not there. I was running, leaving her and the knife behind in the darkness. I turned a corner and suddenly I was once more in the great hall. I looked desperately for somewhere to hide and saw the stairs leading to the top of the steeple. I dashed towards them. They spiraled up and up. The smell of years of dust, death and decay that had wafted up from the hall below and had become trapped in this abysmal space filled my nostrils. After what seemed like hundreds of flights of stairs I reached the top. The room I found myself in was small, big enough for perhaps three people. There was a solitary window, although it's view was blocked by the everlasting fog that surrounded the church. I heard the lady's foot steps as she slowly climbed up th stairs. I realized I was trapped. This dusty old tower was to become my tomb. I watched as the old lady rounded the final bend. No longer was she wearing a white robe, but one made of deep black velvet. It was a black as the night, and made no sound as it moved. Her head was covered in shadow by a hood which she had pulled up. She had returned her knife to it's home around her neck and now wielded a full blown scythe in her old, decaying hands. She was laughing softly as she walked toward me.

“Our little game of cat and mouse is over sonny.” she said, sucking at her lips, “Time for the hunter to catch her prey.” I edge back until I felt the cold stone of the church on my back.

“There's no escape now.” She cackled as she swung the scythe to and fro, it's blade kicking up sparks along the ground. She held the scythe above her head and prepared to swing. I looked up and saw, through the window, that the fog had cleared. Suddenly I was reminded of the image I had seen earlier, and how much I wanted to be home. Like an animal trapped in a corner I balled up my legs and prepared to leap. She swung and I leaped. I saw the scythe come streaking down, ready to cut my soul from my body, but I was already in midair--sailing towards the woman with all my force. We didn't collide; I passed right through her, and tumbled down the stairs. Over and over I rolled. My body bumped and crashed along the stairs. When I reached the bottom I uncurled and slid flat along the stone floor. I got to my feet and heard the old lady's laughter echoing from up stairs: “You can't tackle what isn't there, foolish boy.”

In the distance I could see the door, light still leaking in around it's frame. Using the last of my energy I sprinted for it. Faster and faster I ran, until I crashed right into the door. It's old hinges couldn't take the strain and the door and I tumbled into the sunlight. The heat swept the coldness of the church from me in an instant. The sunlight knocked me to the ground like a hammer and pinned me there until breath had returned to my lungs. I struggled to my feet, every bit of my body aching as I shambled forward. Dust fell from my clothes as if I was a ghost. The intense sunlight blinded me and I shielded my face with my hands. My vision cleared and I could see my house at the very end of the block. I ran, and ran, and ran, my aches and pains forgotten. I burst through the door, and cried out “Hi mom, I'm home!”

“How was your day, sweaty?” came my mother's reply.

“Fine, fine.” I said, slumping into my favorite chair. In the corner of his cage, my pet snake, cracked open an eye lazily before curling back up under the heat lamp.