The Path

I wrote this story. I'm not sure about the ending. What are your thoughts?

"Mummy, where does that path lead?" asked the little girl.

"What path, dear?" asked her mum absent-mindedly, not really looking.

"There!" the little girl pointed at a narrow entrance with wooden fence walls on either side and a paving stone floor.

"Oh that's only an alleyway, come along," replied the mother impatiently, "we don't want to be late to meet grandpa, do we?"

The little girl stared curiously at the path, as she was being dragged away.

The man poked his head out from the path entrance. He was bedraggled, a "gentleman of the road" if you were being kind with your description, or a "filthy tramp" if you were feeling less kind. He had been here before but it was many moons ago. He could see the path continued across from him, over the street. He was safe on the path, no one bothered him there but sometimes the mainland was dangerous for someone like him. He checked no one was around and then darted across the street and into the path entrance on the opposite side. Then he relaxed once more and took up his traditional sauntering pace, his knapsack over his shoulder.

The path traversed the whole of the country. Most didn't know it was there, didn't even see it. Children saw it, animals saw it and used it but adults were too busy. Either that or they didn't want to see it. The man hadn't seen it before either, this is how he knew these things. It was only when he had lost his job and become homeless when he had lost everything and been ready to die, that he stumbled across it one day. He had been running, fleeing from someone who wanted to cause him harm. He had reached a dead end and his heart had sunk. There had been no way out except back into the path of his pursuer and then his eye had noticed a gap between two large bins. He had squeezed through it and discovered a path beyond, no more than an old dirty alley lined with brick walls of the surrounding buildings but he had slipped his way down it and weaved first left and then right, the path growing ever more convoluted in its direction. At one point, he had stopped and thought that this path seemed impossible, it should surely have emerged onto a road at some point but it hadn't and so he kept going until, finally, he came to some steps which he took down and out into a small car park. There were trees all around and he remembered being surprised because he had joined the path in the centre of the city yet somehow he had emerged in a rural area. He had to cross the road and then he climbed a small stile and, having nowhere else to go, he continued on THE path. That's when he began to realise it was all the same path - sometimes it was broken by a road or a small open area but always the path continued and it was always close by.

That had been several years ago when he had first found the path. Since then, it had been one long journey and he was thankful because it had saved him from those pursuing him but now he wished he could find somewhere to settle. The path was useful when you had nowhere to be, you walked and you thought and you re-assessed everything in your life and you had time and were most often left alone to do so but now he felt he had seen enough. He wanted to find a place to re-enter what path-walkers called "the mainland". He stopped and scratched his back. He was sweaty, it had been hot lately, sweaty and uncomfortable. There was a small puppy coming toward him and he stooped to stroke it. The puppy didn't go anywhere but stood there, looking dusty and hot

"Are you lost, buddy?" asked the man. The puppy just stood there, panting. "Come on, let's find you some water, I need some too".

The man started walking further up the path and the puppy followed a few yards behind. They came out onto another street but this time, rather than darting down the next path, the man walked along in front of the houses, until he came across a woman snipping at her hedge.

"I'm ever so sorry to bother you," began the man, "but me and my friend here could really use some water," and he pointed to the puppy sitting off a small distance away. "Would you possibly be so kind as to fill this bottle from your tap?" and he lifted a large plastic milk bottle from his pack.

The woman looked surprised but then a smile appeared on her face, "of course," she said, "no problem, pass it here" and the man passed the bottle over the hedge to the waiting hand of the woman. A couple of minutes later, she returned but to his surprise, she opened the garden gate. "Why don't you two come in?" she suggested and beckoned them into her garden. She pointed to a large wooden deckchair situated in the shade of an apple tree. "There, take a seat," she told him, "I'll be right back"

The man was tongue-tied, he wasn't used to folk showing him such a warm welcome but he sat down in the chair as instructed. Pretty soon, the lady came back with a tray with glasses on. "There you go. Some cold lemonade! I thought you might enjoy that, and here's water for pooch" and she placed a large bowl of water on the floor which the puppy slurped away at keenly. "Now, I expect you're hungry. I've got a pie in the oven. It will be ready shortly. If you don't mind, I'd like to hear your story"

The man spent the afternoon in the garden, eating and drinking and in between telling the woman of his journey, how he started as homeless and despairing and ended up feeling like he belonged on the path.

"and what has changed?" she asked him

"I've changed," he replied, "I can't walk forever. I need a place to rest my legs, a place to call home"

"Looks like someone else needs a home too," she nodded, indicating the puppy who was laying on his back scratching himself on the short grass.

"You can't stay here," she told him sadly, "I wish you could but we don't have room, unfortunately"

"No no no," the man replied hastily, "you've done more than enough - I'm ever so grateful for the hospitality you have shown me this afternoon. We should really be getting going," he said, standing up.

The woman shook hands with him. "I hope you find your place," she said to him, "hold on" and she nipped inside the house once more. Meanwhile, the puppy looked up at him with his sad brown eyes.

"This is for you and your new friend," she took his hand and placed a pile of banknotes in it. The man protested but she shook her head. "It's fine, it's to give you a chance," she said, "you deserve it. Plus you have another mouth to feed now," she said, smiling at the puppy

The man looked away. He could feel tears running down his cheeks. "It's okay," said the woman, "everyone needs help sometimes. Take care of yourself"

The man nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He waved goodbye and wandered along the main street. He could see the path, he could see it everywhere and he knew it was there for him if he needed it.

"How about we wait a bit?" the man suggested to his new friend. The puppy followed behind him. The man entered a small supermarket, "wait here" he told the puppy and soon he emerged with some biscuits, giving the dog a couple of them.

“

"There he is!" came a shout, “there's Rufus!" A young girl with long blonde hair ran towards them and the puppy yelped with happiness. She picked the puppy up and hugged him in her arms

"What are you doing with him?" she asked the man, accusingly.

"I found him," the man answered, "he was hot and hungry and he followed me"

"Where did you find him?" asked the girl

"On the path.." started the man and then he stopped. He didn't know if this girl could see the path but it didn't matter. The girl was so happy to be reunited with her lost puppy that she wasn't really listening for his answer.

"Mum!" she called out to a woman at the far end of the street, "I've found Rufus!"

The man slunk away, feeling dejected. His new friend had gone. The path beckoned him once more. Why did he ever think there was a place for him here? he scolded himself for his stupidity. His place was on the path and always would be.

He shifted the weight of the pack on his back and spied the entrance to the path. It was there as always and he shrugged his shoulders as he began to squeeze himself into it once more

“Hey mister!” came a shout from behind him. He paused and glanced around. The mother of the daughter was rushing towards him. She caught up with him, breathless. “Thanks for looking after my daughter’s puppy,” she smiled at him.

“It’s no problem,” replied the man.

“Where are you off to?” she asked him, looking at the pack he carried.

“Wherever I end up, I suppose,” he answered.

She looked at him curiously but nodded as he turned to leave, holding up one hand in a farewell