The Long Road

His feet hurt.  With everything else flying through his mind this was the thing that stood above it all. The damn boots were waterproof and that's why he bought them, but inside they were sleek and without character and after this long in them his feet were sliding all over the vacant nooks and he knew that he would be paying later, perhaps with some significant blisters to remind him of his folly.

It was all his fault, no question.  He had thought of turning back earlier but he knew that just ahead was a nice view and a possible picture, one that inevitably would fail to show the magnificence of whatever the living reality would bequeath.  So he had pushed ahead, taken the weak picture, seen the sun going down and knew that really he had no clue how long he had been walking and how long it would take to get back, even though it was slightly merciful in being a downhill trek.

It was a long way.

He watched the light slowly fading as he wound his way down the gravel road and felt that even if it went to pitch black the chances of him leaving that road and ending up wandering the woods or falling off the steep sides were slim and that his dangers were small, though occasionally he caught odd sounds that made him think that something might be stalking him in the brush.  Most of these came from himself, and only because he had turned his head to the side did he suddenly notice the noises coming from his own tread that were relegated behind his back.

It was quite dark when he spotted the lights off on a hill, seemingly strung together along some path that could not possibly be there and slowly moving forward along the chain.  Did people really come out here in the dark of night with lights strapped to their heads?  He stopped to listen for human sounds but there were none, and the longer he lingered the creepier he felt and decided that the mystery could go to hell because he needed to continue on and get to where he needed to be.

And his feet really fucking hurt.