(Image Credit: Crispina Kemp)

It was a beaten down path. Beaten down by the excoriating heat of the sun; by squalls of driving rain that brought along with them howling gale force winds; and most of all by indifferent treads of tyres and innumerable pairs of studs and spikes that had become poor, yet affluent synonyms for exercise and health.

But of late the road which was creaking and groaning under the weight of activity had peculiarly been beaten down by stillness and quiet. People had stopped walking, and running. Unblinkingly staring into luminous screens, homo-sapiens were laughing, fighting, venting, jeering and deliberating with unseen chat bots, hidden algorithms and obscure manipulators.

Nature was being sacrificed at the altar of cutting edge finagling. Man was ensnared in the cozy assumption of freedom when freedom was all but obfuscated. Only the twigs that lay scattered on the beaten down path seemed unshackled and unbound.

(Word Count: 149)

Written as part of the Crimson’s Creative Challenge #42 More details regarding this challenge may be found HERE.