Writing Prompt: He turned left at the crossroads.

Have you ever had a morning where everything seems to take twice as long as usual? That seems to be this morning for me. Hopefully setting a timer will help. Ready for a set fifteen minutes? Good, because I know I am. Let’s go.

All sorts of interesting things to explore with this one. I think that the more i sit with this one and figure out the missing bits, the more interesting I will find it to write. Just now it’s a bit so so.

Tuesday, September 21st: He turned left at the crossroads.

He turned left at the crossroads.  There was no particular reason.  He hadn’t been in this part of the world before and had no real destination.  With no destination in mind, there was little reason for any of his decisions other than they felt right at the time.  He knew that soon, he would have to make some sort of real decision, but for the moment it felt good to be somewhat aimless.

It was a nice change.

His footsteps took him down a long road that wound up into the mountains.  The sun was hot and he could feel the shirt between his back and his back pack growing damp.  Several times he stepped off the side of the road to let slow moving farm vehicles pass.  He thought of them all as tractors but many of them were towing some sort of multi bladed and wheeled machinery behind them that he couldn’t identify. 

The farmers driving the tractors all gave him a friendly wave as they trundled past, and he waved back.  It was clear however that they had places to be and things to do, so he didn’t hold any of them up with his idle questioning.  As they passed however he studied the back of the machinery they towed wondering at its usage.

All of the farm vehicles turned off the main road and off onto smaller, often unpaved ones.  He assumed they were some sort of private land or agricultural fields and doubted anyone would appreciate him poking around, especially when they had such wicked looking farm equipment to put into use.  He stuck to the main road with the thought that at some point it would lead him somewhere.

And in time it did.  He ended up in a small village.  In the center of town there was a fountain splashing merrily in the fading sunlight.  The scent of cooking wafted towards him and he suspected people were beginning to prepare family dinners. 

The small village was situated around a square, with the fountain forming the center of the square.  As he walked up to it, he could see the signs of the shops around him.  Butchers, bakers and to his delight a small café. It had small tables arranged in front of it, each with it’s complement of chairs.  Many of the chairs were filled. 

Most of them were filled with older men who sipped from small glasses and gestured wildly as they argued some point or other with their compatriots.  One of the tables however was occupied by two people with back packs similar to his own.  As they caught sight of him, they waved him over.  As they would be his best bet for finding a place to stay for the night, he waved back and walked over to join them.

“Another traveler,” one of them said.  He smiled broadly.  His English was heavily accented and the flag on his backpack was German.  He held out his hand to shake.  “Have you come for the shrine?”

He learned a while ago that people seemed more comfortable if he had a destination so he nodded. “Yes, I had hoped to see the shrine,” he replied.

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