100TWC - Day 41: Fork in the Road

Jason wandered along the forest path. It was a hot afternoon, and his June holiday was ending with the month. He stared at the sun through screwed-up eyes, his squint distorting its edges into horn-like flares. He had decided to take one final walk to the beach before heading home. Not for any special reason or sentiment, but just because.

He shielded his eyes with his hand, noticing something glinting on the path in front of him. A single bright point of scintillation. Curious, he walked over to it and bent down. It was a fork, its polished steel bouncing the strong sun in all directions. A few metres away, closer to the side of the road, lay a plate. He stood up, and walked over to the plate.

It lay at the entrance to a path he had not noticed before. Heavily overgrown so that it was almost invisible beneath the foliage, the path headed off into the woods. Jason had originally intended to keep to the main road on his walk to the beach, but this strange, deserted path intrigued him. He took it.

On entering the first crop of trees, Jason could see there was a clearing ahead. He heard voices. He had been holidaying here for two weeks - how had he not discovered this place sooner?

He entered the clearing, and realised immediately it was a picnic area. To one side stood a man in front of a cooker. Jason was surprised to see it was a bottled gas cooker, right here in the open space. The man stood watching a pan of water that stood on the largest burner.

Several picnic tables were arranged around the clearing, some occupied by holidaymakers. One man, a worried expression on his face, sat in front of a plate piled high with traditional picnic food, scratching his head. He glanced around the clearing at the other people there, as if searching for something. On the other side of the table, in complete contrast to the first man, a second man had less than half of a sandwich remaining. He had taken only a single bite, but his face was distorted in pain and sweat stood out on his brow.

Over on the other side of the clearing one of the picnicker's dogs had been chasing a cat. It stood at the foot of a tree, barking excitedly. The cat stared down at it disdainfully from a tree a metre to the left.

From his right came the sound of a loudly revving truck engine. Jason walked over and saw that the picnic area car park was in a hollow and had been reinforced with stone walls. Someone in a massive 4x4 had clearly taken a wrong turning and ended up sliding down the bank. The vehicle had come to a standstill with its front wheels wedged against the wall. Inside the cabin, the man and his wife were clearly visible, arguing heatedly, while the man continued to try to move the truck despite its precarious position. The front wheels spun against the stone, sending up clouds of toxic smoke.

Jason turned back to the clearing, taking in more of the scene. At another table a family of four were laying out their snacks. Their young son had stolen a bar of chocolate from his younger sister, who lay in her basket and didn't seem to mind. Meanwhile the father had filled a long ancient meerschaum and was trying to light it. Unremarked by the rest of the family, a third child took aim with his catapult at a bird sitting high in the same tree as the cat Jason had noticed earlier. The boy let go with his stone and the bird fell dead into the clearing, shortly followed by another which had been sitting unnoticed behind it on the same branch.

Jason had seen enough of the strange picnic stop. Checking all the paths, he selected one and walked towards it, passing a bed of roses. The air was heavy with their scent but Jason did not stop. He looked back at the clearing. The man's pot still had not begun to boil, but he could not hang around any longer. He turned, blinking against the brightness of the sun, and the picnic clearing was gone.

The afternoon heat seemed to intensify as he walked, but it didn't worry him. The only thing making him really uncomfortable was the strong green smell of the forest, and the moisture being released by all that greenery. The air was full of it.

Before long the beach came in sight below him. He had chosen the cliff path. On the beach he could see a child with a stick, drawing in the sand while his father busied himself setting out a large pile of deckchairs. As Jason watched the man seemed dissatisfied with the arrangement of the chairs and was trying to set them out in a different pattern. On the other side of the path a stream ran slowly down to the sea. Although slow moving, the water was very clear and Jason could see the bottom of the stream many metres below. The stream divided into several different rivulets, but all the channels joined together again before they reached the bridge towards which Jason was walking.

On the other side of the bridge the grassy bank shone in the afternoon sun, a deeper green compared to the sparse couch grass on Jason's side. Before he reached the bridge Jason noticed a tunnel, set strangely high on the hillside.

The path in front of him continued straight, inclining slightly downward to the beach. But to his right, another path snaked up the side of the hill in the direction of the tunnel. Thinking of all that had happened to him that afternoon, Jason had to know. He took the right-hand path, and climbed slowly and breathlessly up towards the tunnel. After a few hundred metres the path passed a small chapel. Through the open door came the sonorous tones of the minister giving a sermon. Jason poked his head around the door inquisitively. The chapel was deserted except for a few choirboys who sat with bored expressions listening to the sermon.

The route up the hillside was hard and rocky, but Jason persisted, determined to see for himself what lay at the top. At length the path fetched up at the side of the track, immediately before the entrance to the tunnel. Placing one hand on the cut stone arch, Jason peered along the length of the tunnel. Through the blackness, a very long way down the track, there was a light.