You set off before dawn, in the hour of deep velvet and blue,
before the sun declares just another day. The childhood house in the midst of oak trees and
the beauty of April die in smoke and speed.
The road bends and turns.
With heavy eyes you drive along the white lines.
You are not stranger here, on that faraway road.
The sun goes beyond its zenith and the rays slant in crimson.
No signs for your destination.
The tarmac turns to pavers. The road comes to a dead end.
A gate tall and black, an intricate lattice like a spider web, rises in sight.
A tall creature in black attire stands behind you and whispers in sickly-sweet voice.
You can open this gate, you are the Chosen One.
You stretch a hand but jerk it back in pain. The handle burns your fingers.
He giggles and opens the gate.
In the darkest of nights, He came and sat across the table from you on the empty chair. The empty chair you kept for her only.
He faced you with his all-knowing eye, not bothered with your good intentions. He pointed a bony finger at you and
spoke in words straight and simple.
You are the Chosen One, chosen to pave the Road to Hell.
You lowered your eye and hunched your shoulders.
It is a mortal sin for a human to pave that road, you said.
Blend the mixture and mould it, he said,
smooth the pavers over with your art and skill, and kind word,
put them down, one next to another, and wash your hands.
I promise you the road will pave itself.
He left in an instant, in silence, with a candid smile.
He struck a memory, a memory you ache to throw away.
You destined to make her happy. Since childhood, she spent long summers at the house in the midst of with oak trees.
You gave her a ring. You looked at each other with smitten eyes.
Till death do us part, so you two pledged.
Yet, you sold her love and trust. You sold her soul for one cold night.
You talked. That’s what you made me do, your voice rang in the heat of the moment. You bought roses but they withered in waiting for the perfect moment.
Now you have that gate to face.
A long shadow come from behind you.
With a snap of a finger, He sets the horizon on fire.
He opens the gate. Welcome to my home, he says, just follow the road and you will reach your destination.
You walk downwards on the pavers covered in earth and dust and ashes.
The road you have paved turns coarse and ruthless to your bare feet.
Tell her that I…please, tell her…
Smoke sticks to the tongue. The body fights the heat.
He closes the gate.