If my life took place during the days of kings and queens, knights and dragons....

I'm at a crossroad. I'm dirty and travel worn; my horse died a few million miles back and I've been walking ever since. My cloak is ragged, torn and smells like smoke. I can't remember the last time I took a bath. My food ran out well before my horse died but I've managed to survive on bits and pieces I scrounge out of the forest. I'm tired; dead tired. I can hardly put one foot in front of the other. There's a spot I've found for tonight and it faces the crossroad.

I need to make a decision, I have to choose which way to go before the night is over, the sun rises and I strike onward again. But it's foggy. A thick haze hangs right down to the mud and I can't even tell how many roads meet here. I'm so tired. Maybe I don't have to move, maybe I can stay here forever or get off the road entirely. Maybe I can give up the journey and find another life style that will fit my fancy.

I'd like to give it a try but I know I never will. The road haunts me, waking or sleeping. It's my bane as well as my pleasure. It's a result of my masochistic tendency for punishment, my drive for truth and my slow discovery of an unusual source of joy. I will go on with my journey. Which way? Only tomorrow will tell.