The Traveller

By Augustine Nash

"The Traveller" is a work of fiction.
The Traveller finds himself standing on a country road and knows he has to follow it to the end. He remembers nothing of his past life or knows why he does not need to eat or drink.
He starts on his long journey in autumn, eventually travelling through all seasons. On the way he experiences many situations and meets a variety of human reactions, even escaping from a prison.
He finds the journey long and arduous, especially having to sleep out in the open, underneath hedges and in barns suffering from the cold.
He wants to turn back which he knows is impossible and at long last comes to the end of the road. Confronting him is a large bleak windowless building. What awaits him there? He enters to face the consequences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E-Book Publishing
• Release date: May 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781912643646

Book preview

He had been condemned. He did not know when or how this had happened because his memory had been taken away. There was only the here and now. The here and now was a long road stretching away until lost from sight. He had been ordered to follow it, right to the end. Why was that? He had no idea.

For a short while he examined what appeared to be a narrow country road with low hedges either side and in the distance a wood the trees covered in leaves turning red, yellow and a rich brown. It must be Autumn.

The sky was blue and a warm sunshine covered the land when he set off. At first he walked along at a good pace but after a while his breathing became laboured and he slowed down halting at a gate.

The land sloped away into the distance the fields a patchwork of colour and way down below a solitary farmhouse which stirred something in his head. However it was snatched away before he could dwell on it. For a few moments the Traveller watched the smoke from the chimney rising up into the air to disappear into the heavens, a homely sight.

The road was rough and small stones cut right through his sandals. He knew they were not suitable but he had not chosen to wear them, had no hand in the long dark cloak and loose garb that covered his body from head to toe.

Eventually he reached the wood on the right hand side of the road and stopped to admire the many rich shades, the beauty almost taking his breath away. It was late afternoon and the wind began to stir, causing the leaves to fall all about him. Soon they were heaped along the side of the road.

The sky had now become overcast, a shivering cold wind picking up. Gathering his cloak firmly about him he followed the road not knowing where it would lead or when it would come to an end. The voice had commanded, Follow the road until you reach its end. But why, nothing made any sense his brain had been turned into a hollow empty space, his feelings muted to such an extent that he was numb.

He was close to leaving the wood behind when he heard a sound, perhaps the wind tearing at the branches? Something made him enter and on looking upwards he saw the man balancing between two stout branches, on a third branch above his head was a rope dangling down. There was no doubt it was a noose.

The man realised he was no longer alone and shouted down, What are you staring at? Go away and let me do what I wish to do.

The Traveller felt helpless, he had taken in the scene and knew what was about to happen. Somewhere deep in the depths he was connected to this scene, was it something from his past? Yet now he had no past.

He made no move, calling back, Come down then perhaps we can discuss what is troubling you. There is no need for you to go to such lengths.

How would you know? the man shouted back angrily. I have always worked hard and done my best but it has all come to nothing, there is no point in going on.

As the Traveller watched, the man slipped the noose around his throat, which prompted him to shout No…please!

Yet it was too late the man jumped off the branches, struggled and jerked then went still. The wind sensed the tragedy and suddenly howled round the dangling figure causing it to sway violently about.

The Traveller stumbled back to the road feeling guilty that he had done nothing, at the same time knowing he would not have been allowed to, nothing had been left in his hands. He wanted to cry but even that was denied him.

Wearily he placed one foot in front of the other asking himself would this road really come to an end or was he doomed to travel on for ever? The wind had turned cold causing him to shiver. He could not feel his bare feet and wished he could cover them with thick socks.

Shortly it would be dark so he searched the hedge line and at last came across a bush which was hollow. He crept inside and arranged the branches around him then he pulled up his hood drew up his knees and wound his cloak around him.

He felt so tired that after he rested his head on his knees he fell into a deep sleep. It was a black void without dreams because they too were not permitted.

Suddenly many hands reached out into the bush and began poking him with long nails which tore at his skin until it bled. He was aware of the pain in his fog-filled mind, the crazy laughter surrounding him and the chanting of many voices which rose to an unbearable crescendo. He could not wake up.

Drown in your own blood, Suffer…Suffer…Suffer! Reptile of the lowest order on God’s earth crawl away and let no human spare you! they cried in agonising tones, which slowly faded away. Hands were withdrawn their work done leaving only silence.

When he woke up he remembered everything and shuddered. What had the voices been alluding to and why should he be made to suffer?

It was a cold morning and a layer of frost covered the grass, each blade shinning under a dull sky. It pointed to the coming of winter.

He crawled out of the bush and stiffly stood up; it seemed as if all the bones in his body were painfully aching. At first his feet stumbled along the road ever leading onwards yet as his body grew warmer they came to life and began to itch.

It was early morning and the wind had died away which was something to be thankful for. He followed the road which curved in an up--hill climb, his breath coming out in gasps of white issuing from his mouth caused by the lingering frost. He was not hungry or thirsty thankfully that would not bother him food and drink having been taken away.

He plodded onwards with no hope in his heart just feelings of despair and a new kind of loneliness. The ever lengthening road held nothing for him but a belief that it led nowhere.

Head bowed he walked through a day of cloudy skies and a coldness creeping into his bones. When he turned the next corner he saw a man standing by a donkey with whip raised. You useless creature, not worth your keep! he snarled lashing the animal with all the force he could muster. The donkey sank to his knees and let out a mournful cry which echoed painfully across the land.

Leave that poor animal alone, can’t you see he is too tired to go any further, the Traveller called out.

Mind your own business and be on your way, the man retaliated scowling.

The donkey closed his eyes and fell forward. It looks to me as if you should give him a meal, poor animal he looks half-starved.

Whip held high above his head the man advanced, Now it’s your turn, I did warn you, he shouted, his face black with anger. Then he raised the whip and brought it sharply down over the Traveller’s shoulder, not once but several times.

Pain shot through his body, he put up his hands to protect himself but the irate man was not giving up. As soon as he hesitated the Traveller ducked down and ran for his life until his attacker was out of sight.

He felt blood oozing from his wounds and for a while stopped and sat down still shaking with fright. Again he had achieved nothing and that stung him.

The dull afternoon wore on, dark clouds appearing in the sky. The road had suddenly grown wider and in the distance he saw buildings, it must be a town.

Suddenly there was a loud clap of thunder right over his head, seconds later lightening streaked across the sky and then it began to rain. It came down so fast that he could hardly see through it and shortly the road was running with water, covering his sandals.

The town was set in a valley with steep hills either side and as he struggled towards it lights came on. The first building he came across was a church standing back off the road. By the light over the iron gates he saw an open porch and decided to take shelter from the storm. As he progressed up the gravel path he was aware of the gravestones on either side of him, their appearance sinister in the half light. Leaning at crazy angles, one tomb