[RiddleRose]: 298.Stories.This Way to Nowhere

This Way to Nowhere  

The sign read simply, 'THIS WAY TO NOWHERE'. It was not a fancy sign, it was not a pretty sign, it was merely a sign. It was made of a plank, upon which had been burned sloppily the words that it so proudly proclaimed. It proclaimed them in rather a loud voice, a sloppy sort of voice, that wasn't fancy, or pretty. It was merely a voice. It repeated itself every time it saw a person walk by. Sometimes it repeated itself just because it was bored and had nothing else to do but talk to the other signs that were set up beside the road. This was also boring as all one could say was 'WEST', all another could say was 'NANNY HILDON, WILDOAK LANE: WILL WATCH CHILDREN FOR REASONABLE FEES', and of course, all the sign could say was 'THIS WAY TO NOWHERE'.

It wasn't sure if there was anything it was supposed to be doing other than reciting its one dreary line, day after day, year after year. It wasn't sure, but it didn't think so. So it stood there, day after day, year after year, and recited its one dreary line. 'THIS WAY TO NOWHERE' it said to a squirrel that was hopping along a tree branch. The squirrel cocked an ear, then chittered loudly and darted away. 'THIS WAY TO NOWHERE' it intoned to a small boy trundling by. The boy threw a rock at it.
 
After a long time the sign grew tired of reciting its dreary line. The other signs had rotted away long ago, and it was lonely. No one came this way anymore, and even the squirrels had gone. Its voice had grown creaky and slurred with age, and it didn't remember who had put it there. It stood there drooping slightly with moss growing on it, partly obscuring the words burned into its face. When it rained bits of rotting wood dropped off the edges of the sign. Eventually it fell over. 

Now it couldn't even see where it was. It gave up completely, consigning itself to the fate of all wooden signs. Bugs and mice came to live in the sign. They burrowed little tunnels through its softly decaying face. By some odd twist of fate, the tunnels formed the words 'THIS WAY TO NOWHERE'.

Then winter came, and stayed. For a very very long time all was frozen and cold. The bugs and mice died, but the tunnels stayed, spelling out their message to the cold and unforgiving sky. The wood of the sign, which was still there despite all of the trials it had endured, was frozen solid by the cold ice. It was compressed until it became hard and unforgiving as the ice that held it. 

Eventually the ice melted, but it had moved the sign many miles to a new place. Now it was like a stone, hard and cold, with the tunnels spelling out its message to the new place. The sign felt different now, cold and precise. Its voice came back, loud and clear. It no longer sounded unfinished and sloppy, it sounded like you might expect a stone to sound, slow and enduring. However there remained a hint of wood to it. The grain of the wood showed through the stone, and the words were still upraised tunnels made by tiny diligent creatures.

The ice deposited the sign in the branches of a tree. It sat there for many more years as the tree grew and grew, until it was the biggest tree in the forest. Now the sign looked out over the land, and proclaimed its message joyously to the birds flying by.

One day the tree shook slightly. A nut-brown face came into the sign's view. It happily shouted its line, 'THIS WAY TO NOWHERE!' at the face, which twisted itself into an expression of wonder and horror, and abruptly left. Soon it came back with more faces like it, and then the sign felt hands lifting it. The wide vista of land disappeared from its vision, and for a while all it could see were leaves, and all it could feel were nut-brown hands carefully holding it. 

It was covered with a cloth of some kind, and then after a time the cloth was lifted, and it was plated with shimmering gold. Now it's voice chimed like bells, and rang throughout the forest. It was placed back atop the tree where it had been found, but it was no longer ignored. Now the nut-brown people came to visit it and wonder at it often. It sang its message lovingly through the land, and the nut-brown people cared for it. The sign settled into its new existence, knowing that it would pass, but content with what it had. In time, the tree was struck by lightning, and the sign fell into the river. The nut-brown people left, and the sign was alone again.

THIS WAY TO NOWHERE.