Print – The End ofa Legend by Kevan Chandler

It was shallow, but unmistakable. A slight sink in the red dirt, ridges running through the middle like dams along an empty river. He stood motionless before it, nearly afraid to cross this little Jordan in the road. The heel of the indention was deepest, and the stream of blood from his chest dripped to the ground and trickled its way into the canal. Blood flows differently from other liquids, he thought as he watched his own fill the space. And whose boot made this mark? And when? A lone traveler like himself, not long ago but long enough that they'll never meet along this road or in this life. Still, there was a print. A foot print that held in its sole a thousand stories and more promises than that. He dropped to his knees before the memorial of life and hope. His weight sent a ripple skipping through the thin, crimson puddle as his knees hit the dirt. He watched as it settled again, and the dust around it too. Then he reached to his right with a cupped hand and moved a scoop of earth across the divide, covering the track. Hope. Is it worth the life it inspires? His chest continued to bleed.