THE LONELIEST MAN // A NARRATIVE

Deep in the dark damp woods in the middle of nowhere there once lived a man. He lived in a home that didn’t have a driveway or a mail box to mark the turn. It wasn’t off a dirt road or a gravel road or a paved road. There wasn't a road at all.

Directions weren't easy, which was okay because he never had the need to tell anyone directions in the first place. In fact, he had nowhere to tell directions to, not a house or a home, and no one to tell either. No one knew who he was. No one knew he was born. No one knew he lived. And no one even knew when he died.

And he did die, eventually, with no directions, or road, or mailbox, or driveway, or house.  He just died and the smell of the damp forest took over his body and camouflaged him with the land. Not even archeologists would know he existed because when nature was done with him, there was nothing left. Not even his teeth, because, well, he had none to begin with.

So the man with no teeth. The man with no directions, or road, or mailbox or driveway, or house. The man that no one knew who he was and no one knew he was born and no one knew he died. This man actually was not a man. This man was nothing. This man never existed.

And so neither did his story. This story. These word.

The End -but then again this never existed either.