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The Road Not Taken by ~Psychotic-Neon:iconPsychotic-Neon:





What is the last thing you remember?
Is it the din of traffic? A wail? Or roaring silence?
A thump.
A while later, a tingling sensation.
It would appear you are lying on a firm and gritty surface. You are lying on your side, your arm folded underneath you. You are not injured, but the pressure to the nerves has caused a burning feeling in your arm once you decide to sit up. Pin and needles, I believe you call it.
The first thing you see is the firm and gritty surface. The ground.
:iconpsychotic-neon:

Author's Comments

Mrawr.
I can't really - or rather, don't really want to explain it.
Other than, well, it's to illustrate a possible character/story concept inspired by Frost's poem. Hence, the title.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth"

Heh, I love that first part.

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