I Chose The Wrong Fig

I Chose The Wrong Fig - a short story

---

I stood at the fig tree, ready for my future. I passed one and it whispered the end I thought I wanted. 

     “That one. It must be the right one. It showed the ending to the path I chose long ago.” I say out loud. There was no one who could hear me, but I had to reassure myself. I took a seat on the roots of the lively tree and held my chosen fig in my hands. 

My mind is filled with doubts as I look at it. 

     “Did I pick the right fig? What could my life be if I chose differently?” I wonder. Instead of this I could’ve gotten the life of a famous writer, I could’ve resided in Europe living off my days writing fiction people escape in. On the other hand I might’ve made it as an actor. I could’ve been a guitarist for a famous band. Or a singer/songwriter myself. What would people say if I were a journalist? A scholar perhaps. Maybe a professor of sorts is written on the cards. 

     “No,” I thought to myself, silencing the others. I looked down at the fig of my choice. “I’ve already wasted so much time building up to the future already in my hands. There’s no time to turn back.” 

My regrets challenge my choice with great intent. I place my fingers on the tip of the fig. My hesitations take a hold of me as my mind runs through that which might be. I take a deep breath in, mentally preparing myself. I’ve no idea if this future is truly for me. A quick exhale out as I peel off the skin as fast as possible. Nothing! The future I picked held nothing for me! 

My eyes darted all around me in horror as I found some figs already fallen to the ground. I get on my feet and see most have already wrinkled. As I run around the tree trying to find an eligible future even more fall down, taunting me. My only shot at a good future, and I lost it. I glanced at the tree and found no more figs hanging, whether it be fruitful or rotten. I won’t give up, I have no choice. I can’t leave this place without surely knowing I’ve secured a good future for myself. I peek through the leaves desperate for a hidden fig. There had to be at least one left here for me. I looked around until I finally found one. A fig. It wasn't blackened, wrinkled, rotten, or on the ground. Without even hearing its whisper I pulled it from the tree, before it turned out like the rest. I ignore the fear and guilt that fills me. Slowly I pull the skin down, afraid of the future I’ve unknowingly decided for myself.  I guess that is how it’s supposed to be, unknown. At least I have the comfort of knowing that I’ll one day do something great.