The Final Follower

"Well, that's that," I said, letting the shovel fall to the ground. "What now?"

After my comment of "What now?" The man didn't even peep a word. The silence was deafening to me.Looking over at the man for a response, I arch an eyebrow. My foot impatiently tapping as I continue to wait for a response.

“Never mind” I said with my hand on my head. Distraught, I walked down the road, with the man behind me, silent. I looked around me as I could see the cold, desolate landscape around me. I could see one story shacks that looked as if I was in Compton.

I approached those huts, the man was still behind me, I could hear his sighs close to me, I felt him close to me, I felt fear close to me. I stood in front of the huts, the man stopped in front of me, "I feel your fears in your eyes" he said as he stared at me.

“It’s not fear, it’s irritation!” I snapped. “For the last time, stop following me! I’m sick of your constant shuffling and sighing. Just… don’t you have friends? A hobby? Go away!”

A low shudder sucked the air from my lungs. My follower shrunk inward unnaturally, then exploded in size, her old skin falling from the sky to reveal her true form: a giant; a fairy; a blacksmith. “Little person,” her voice boomed. “You will follow me now.”