short fiction · 2026-10-16

The Road That Stops

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

Beyond the last marker, the asphalt frays into gravel, then dust, then nothing. No sign warns of the end, no barrier rises—just the slow surrender of surface to wind. I walk on, expecting a gate, a vista, a turn, but the horizon offers only the same flat sky. My boots stir no echo; the air carries no voice. Yet I keep moving, because the act of going feels like the only answer the road ever gave.