Path of Peace
Today’s flash fiction is inspired by the Walk for Peace currently happening in the USA, led by a group of monks and their dog Aloka. Visit @walkforpeace.usa on Instagram and Facebook for more info.
The thick fog obscured her vision and silenced the nearby woods in the early morning twilight, turning everything gray, including her mood.
Less than an hour ago, there had been dozens of people lined up alongside the road next to her. But now there were only five of them, including herself, and she was growing bored and impatient. She didn’t want to stand in the wet air all alone shivering as her mother picked wildflowers a few feet away, occasionally cursing at the prickly brush for its unintentional assaults.
All she wanted to do was eat pancakes and blow dry her hair before school started, if she was even going to make it in time. Or maybe she should just skip school altogether, to play video games at CJ’s house. What else were dreary days like this for anyway?
She didn’t really care about meeting some random group of men who were walking thousands of miles in weird-looking blankets. Seriously, who in their right mind would be walking on the side of a country road in this weather at this time of year anyway? In the twenty-first century? When cars were already invented and available? Crazy people, or people vying for attention, that’s who, she thought. Or people who didn’t have better things to do like eat pancakes and play video games.
Yet her mother had insisted they come last-minute, lamenting the inconvenient distance of the only florist shop in town the entire car ride over… to wherever it was they even were. Which was near-ish to some type of ancient rest stop for weary people passing through, known for their coffee and biscuits and feral hogs. That’s all she knew.
So, here they were, she was, at some random place along the road, waiting… and waiting… and waiting…as another person from their small anonymous group of strangers walked off, then another, and another… as no car or living creature passed by or made a decibel of sound… until she slowly started humming to herself to stay sane because her mother had also made her leave her phone in the car they had parked somewhere far, far away, of course…
Eventually, after the last straggler left, a distant birdsong began, lulling her into a trance that slowed her breathing and settled her anxious energy, surrounding her with a profound sense of calm.
After what seemed like seconds but could have been minutes, a rustling noise startled her.
Something was moving in the brush behind her.
She turned to see what it was. And it was definitely something … something approaching her… and approaching her quickly.
Something that clearly was not her mother… was approaching her. Quickly.
It had to be a medium-sized animal of some kind. An animal on four feet. That was charging through the brush. Quickly. Heading straight toward her. Like it was on some sort of mission.
A four-legged, medium-sized animal with —
Wait.
Was that a white and tan furry tail scraping the top of the brush?
Was it a coyote? Or a —
Oh no. No, it couldn’t be —
She let out a deep sigh of relief once she was finally able to make out its full figure.
It was a dog with a heart shape embedded on the fur on its head, walking toward her with a steady gait and pace, determined yet content. Like it was a long-lost friend who had been searching for her for days.
When it reached where she stood, the dog sat at her feet facing the opposite direction, toward the road. Following its lead, she turned to face the road again too. And after she did, the dog leaned against her leg, clearly wanting to be pet, so she scratched the back of its ears until a few minutes passed and she could hear faint footsteps on the pavement.
It was the group of men walking that they had come to see. They had finally arrived. And she was present to receive and greet them. Thanks to the dog, the fog, and many other spiritual forces and disguised serendipities.
After a few seconds, she could make out orange robes in the dissolving fog, then two or three bandaged feet, a few walking sticks, then an entire line of monks walking in sync. Like a peaceful army, if such an oxymoron could exist.
When the monk at the front of the line emerged from the fog, the dog trotted over to him and wagged its tail, then fell in step with him seamlessly, like it had never wandered off their shared peace path, like they had been walking together all along.
The monk paused when he reached where she stood. With a serene look on his face, he bent forward slightly, then reached into the satchel he was carrying, handing the bright yellow wildflower he retrieved from it to her, before falling back in line. She instinctively mimicked his bow, then proceeded to bow at the other monks as they passed by, silently giving thanks as she watched them slowly fade into the distance.
It wasn’t until her mother returned, a pile of wildflowers with dirt clumps attached to them in hand, that she even realized what had happened, why it mattered, and the path she was going to take next.
[Feel free to add more to this scene, then share what you end up writing in a comment or chat thread. For inspiration, check out the @walkforpeace.usa and @alokathepeacedog pages on Instagram and Facebook.]
© This work is not available for artificial intelligence (AI) training. All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton; Creighton’s Compositions LLC. The above work is a piece of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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