Thanks first to Kelly for resurrecting the JUWC. I'm so sick of what passes as political and religious 'debate' on this site that I'd much prefer writing and reading such as this.
In the OP, I posted a haiku as a joke, saying that was my submission, but then I was bitten by the haiku bug, and today I was finally able to sit down and finish my haiku story. it's nothing special, but it doesn't suck as bad as I feared it would.
--
Two paths, two roads, dark,
filled with scent of foreboding,
rotten apples, fear.
Which to choose? Neither?
This tattered corner home holds
mysteries, puzzles.
Old man sits on porch,
smiling wickedly, sickly,
teeth rotting, stinking.
Should I ask him which?
His years, his memories are
etched across his face.
Mouth opens, closes,
fish-like, dumb. I can't speak words;
apprehension rules.
The man reads my thoughts.
'Not many come this way, now,
not since the old days.
'I've taken both roads -
I've followed each to its end.
It doesn't matter.'
'Wait, what do you mean?'
My brow furrows, confused, lost.
'The paths are equal?
'Far from it, my boy,
one is filled with life, light, air,
cherry blossoms, love.
'The other? Darkness.
Pain. Blood. Suffocation. Tears.
Nothing but remorse.'
'No, how can that be?
You said the paths were equal,
I don't understand.'
His eyes, rimmed with blood,
black pools of deep nothingness,
meet mine, capture them.
'Never said equal,
boy, don't put words in my mouth.
Said “didn't matter”.'
'Wait – one sounds dreadful,
the other filled with beauty,
why won't it matter?'
His voice cracks, trembles,
'Boy, they end the same – release.
Shuffling off this coil.'
My eyes close, thinking.
When opened, the man is gone.
It doesn't matter?
One has beauty, life.
The other – sickness, darkness.
Both ending in death.
I sit in the chair,
Unable to decide one,
blanketed in cold.
Two paths, two roads, dark,
filled with scent of foreboding,
indecision, fear.