The Journey Back Home
I ventured back towards home in the direction The Man on the donkey had directed me to go. The trail was difficult. The scorching sun beat down on me as I struggled to see the narrow trail. I began to grow frustrated and found a shady spot to stop and rest for a while. I began to look through the book the Man had given me.
To my surprise, the book was extremely insightful; passages appeared to leap off of the page and strike deep within my soul. I read about a man who fought lions and giants, men who warned people of coming destruction if they didn’t change their ways, and women who lived selflessly, often risking their own lives.
I felt refreshed as the sun began to set on the horizon. I needed to build a fire quickly, before it became too dark to see. I gathered up kindling and firewood as quickly as I could and started a fire. The night crept in and I began to feel the temperature drop. I began to shiver and edge closer to the dancing flames. Hunger started to become a dominating thought, as I laid on the ground struggling to sleep.
Suddenly, I heard a horrific scream just a few hundred yards away. I shot up and hustled to investigate. I came upon a woman who had tripped and fallen over a large rock. I helped her back to the fire where we could examine her wounds more closely. Thankfully, she was only bruised and scratched on her arms and legs from the fall.
We began telling our stories after verifying she was in good health. She said she had also been on the long black train, living a life of great pleasure. After we were abandoned by the train she met the strange Man on a donkey shortly after I did. He had promised her a better way of life and He had directed her towards the path she needed to take to make it back home. The fire began to subside as it burned up the last of the firewood while she finished her story.
I went to find more firewood to last through the rest of the night, and when I came back she was asleep. I managed to sleep for a short thirty minutes before the sun rose the next morning. We began our trek, after searching for and finding edible berries for breakfast along the edges of the path. We began talking again. What else did we have to do besides walk and talk? We joked and laughed like we hadn’t in a very long time. I felt a peace and happiness as I never had before as we trudged closer to our destination.
We eventually ran out of small talk to converse about, so we inevitably ended up getting more personal and deeper in our conversation. She opened up to me and admitted the scratches on her arms and legs were not from the fall but that they were actually from her time on the long black train. She had visited the car of self harm just to feel something, after every other car she had visited had left her feeling cold, emotionless, and dead. She said the pain was a sweet reminder she was still alive and able to feel. I thought it was a bit strange but who am I to judge. I’d screwed up just the same simply with different sins.
Around noon we stopped and rested a while to search for more food. I heard excited shouting and rejoicing back down the path coming from my traveling partner. As I hurried back towards her direction, she and another man met me half way. He introduced himself as her boyfriend and explained that they would be going back to find the long black train.
She did not look too thrilled about this, and when she tried to speak up he gave her a look that ended her objection. I reached out to shake his hand and noticed his bruised knuckles appeared to match the bruises on her arms and legs. I tried questioning her about it when he had started back down the path, but she told me it was none of my business. This was her choice and her life. Nothing I could say or do would change that, so I let her go back against my better judgment and gut feeling. I couldn’t help someone who didn’t want my help, or didn’t know they needed my help.