Matt Meade

A lone samurai tipped his hat against the sun.

Despite the impossible challenges he had faced the war was won and he was returning home victorious to hang up his sword. He had traveled far and the impossible odds were long behind him. To traverse a single familiar road was the only thing standing between him and his harmony now, his home.

The wind danced throught the cherry blossoms and a single ray of light shined down through the clouds. He thought of his accomplishments during the war and how he had honored his Master, he lived to serve. He wished to have one last dance with his sword on this perfect day.

He was a master swordsman and kata came to him without thought. His cuts were swift and clean. A crane flew overhead and in a moment of inspiration he spun and drew his sword, it was such a precise stroke the road before him split in two and for a moment he stood frozen at the fork.

He lost his usual composure, this was amazing. With the sharpness of his cut he had changed his world. What was once a single path before him was now two. Pride welled up from within him for this one perfect cut, the best he had ever known.

Could it have been luck? He had always been taught not to question the clean draw of a sword but this was new, and he was too curious. He sheathed his katana and prepared for another draw. One swift flash of his blade and he had done it again. Now three roads lay before him and he felt invincible.

What a gift, behind him was the war, he had ended. Before him was the road home. But now by the sharpness of his cut there were not one but two new paths. What adventures could lay in wait there? Seeing how he had cut his own destiny into the land he swelled with pride again and prepared his sword once more.

His sword danced in the setting sun, again and again he split the road. Time seemed to stand still. Over and over his blade danced across the paths before him until he stopped, out of breath. He smiled as he admired his handiwork.

He stood at the crossroads of a thousand paths. He peered down them as far as he could see in every direction. What could await him down each? A great sadness struck him as he realized he could not explore them all in one lifetime. All of these possibilities and he would only be able to experience a handful. Would he ever make it back to the crossroads at all? He wept.

His sadness turned to confusion as his eyes searched the roads all the way to the horizon. Some seemed more fair than others and some seemed dangerous, but he could not see their ends. Perhaps an inviting path would turn for the worse, and perhaps it was the more dangerous paths that led to salvation. How could he know which path led to his enlightenment and which led to his corruption?

He had to clear his mind, he must solve this puzzle. He sat and began to meditate on the situation. After a few moments his eyes flashed open in realization and he stood. Terror crept into his heart as he spun, franticly searching. Which was the road to his home, his balance, his place of peace? He was unable to discern which was the path that he had been traveling that morning, or for that matter which led back to the war. He cried out in frustration and fear.

A great shame swept over him. He had accomplished the impossible when he won the war but was unable to walk down the simple path that followed, a simple task destroyed by the sharpness of his cut. He stood at the center of a prison he had proudly crafted himself and longed to have his familiar path back.

He sat to meditate again on the answer, to call up the path in his mind that was so familiar to him that morning. But he was furious and confused and sad and ashamed, and could not concentrate in this state. He paced back and forth staring down the crossroads in anger. He screamed in frustration as tears ran down his scarred face.

To his left was a solid stone and to his right a willow tree danced in the wind. He drew his sword and prepared to break it over the stone when he stopped dead in his tracks. A new facet of this terrible trap revealed itself. As he stood there awash in his emotions, he realized that he was never alone on the road, there were always dangers. Not only was he lost, but now his ruin could approach from any direction. Worse still it was getting dark.

-Matt Meade