CHAPTER 5: A ROAD THAT NEVER ENDS
746 Words
The road looked different in the morning.
At night, it had been quiet. Almost kind.
Now, under the rising sun, it showed its true self.
Long.
Dry.
Endless.
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Amara had been walking for hours.
She didn’t know how many.
Time had stopped making sense somewhere between the darkness and the first light of dawn.
Her legs were already aching.
Her feet—bare, dusty, and sore—pressed against the rough ground with every step.
But she didn’t stop.
She couldn’t.
⸻
The sun climbed higher.
And with it came the heat.
Not the gentle warmth of morning—
But the harsh, heavy kind that pressed down on your head and shoulders like a burden.
Amara wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
Her throat felt dry.
She reached into her bag and took a small sip of water.
Not too much.
She didn’t know when she would find more.
⸻
The road stretched ahead of her like a test.
No signposts.
No directions.
No promises.
⸻
Am I even going the right way?
The thought came suddenly.
Sharp.
Uncomfortable.
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She slowed down.
Looked around.
There were trees. Bushes. Open land.
But nothing familiar.
Nothing certain.
⸻
For the first time since she left—
Amara felt something close to fear.
⸻
“What if I’m lost?” she whispered.
Her voice sounded small in the open air.
⸻
She turned slightly, looking back.
The path behind her seemed just as long.
Just as empty.
⸻
Home was no longer near.
But Lagos was not yet close.
⸻
She stood there, caught between two worlds.
⸻
Her chest tightened.
Her breathing grew uneven.
⸻
Maybe I should go back.
⸻
The thought stayed longer this time.
It didn’t disappear quickly.
It settled.
Tried to make itself comfortable.
⸻
Her legs felt heavy.
Her body tired.
Her mind uncertain.
⸻
Then—
Her stomach growled.
Loud.
Sharp.
Painful.
⸻
Amara closed her eyes.
And in that moment—
She saw Chike.
Crying.
Weak.
Hungry.
⸻
Her eyes opened immediately.
The hesitation broke.
⸻
“No,” she said firmly.
Not loud.
But strong.
⸻
“I’m not going back.”
⸻
She adjusted her bag again.
Took a breath.
And continued walking.
⸻
The hours passed slowly.
Too slowly.
⸻
The sun burned.
The ground stretched.
Her strength began to fade.
⸻
By afternoon, her steps were no longer steady.
They dragged.
Each one taking more effort than the last.
⸻
She found a small tree and sat under it.
The shade was weak.
But it was something.
⸻
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the bread.
She broke off a small piece.
Ate slowly.
Carefully.
Like it had to last forever.
⸻
The water was almost gone.
⸻
Amara leaned back against the tree.
Her eyes closed for a moment.
Just a moment.
⸻
But even in that short rest—
Doubt returned.
⸻
What if Lagos is not waiting for me?
What if I get there… and nothing changes?
⸻
Her chest felt tight again.
⸻
For the first time since she left—
Tears slipped down her face.
⸻
Not loud crying.
Not shaking.
Just quiet tears.
⸻
Because the truth was simple.
And heavy.
⸻
She was just a girl.
Ten years old.
Alone on a road she didn’t understand.
Heading toward a place she had never seen.
⸻
The world suddenly felt too big.
⸻
Amara wiped her face quickly.
As if someone might see.
Even though no one was there.
⸻
“I can do this,” she whispered.
But this time—
It didn’t sound as strong.
⸻
She opened her eyes again.
Looked ahead.
⸻
The road was still there.
Still long.
Still endless.
⸻
But something else was there too.
Far ahead.
⸻
A shape.
⸻
Amara squinted.
Her heart began to beat faster.
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It looked like—
Movement.
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A vehicle.
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Hope flickered.
Small.
But alive.
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She stood up quickly, ignoring the pain in her legs.
Took a few steps forward.
Then more.
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As the shape got closer—
She realized it was a truck.
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Her heart pounded.
⸻
Should I stop it?
What if it’s dangerous?
What if it’s my only chance?
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The truck got closer.
Louder.
Bigger.
⸻
Amara stepped closer to the road.
Her hands slightly raised.
Her body tense.
Her mind racing.
⸻
This moment—
Could change everything.
- Writer
