Opposing views.
There were three of them in the car: the dreamer, the goddess, and the drunk.
On that note, there might as well have been two of them in the car, the drunk only gave them purpose to be out. She was passed out in the back seat, being chauffeured through the night after a night of hard partying, perhaps a bit too hard. The dreamer was driving, his eyes reluctantly focused on the road, his mind obviously elsewhere. Then there was the goddess, sitting in the passenger seat staring attently out the window, as if looking for something.
Occasionally, the dreamer would take his eyes from the road to look at her, flicking the filter of her late cigarette out the window and igniting another. It was safe, the roads were surprisingly barren for this time of night. The road was relatively straight as well; save the intermittant rotation of the wheel, one could simply drift and enjoy the scenery under the moonlight. Eventually, they spoke. There was no awkward silence, it was all comfortable. There was no fiddling with the radio or keeping busy, the two of them simply smiled at the silence, reveling in the moment.
The goddess was the first to speak. "They say nature is chaotic," she remarked, the words slowly slipping off her tongue, "but if you look out there you won't see war, or death, or evil. It's all calm."
"But chaos doesn't need to be loud," the dreamer replied, "chaos can be as simple as a series of changes."
"Chaos isn't the right word... tonight has no-"
"Sin?" The dreamer suggested, offering an equally suggestive look, the nature of which was predictable under the circumstances.
The goddess laughed quietly to herself, like she would to many of his jokes. It was the perfect volume, loud enough to confirm that he was amusing her but quiet enough so as not to overemphasize the joke. Truth be told, it wasn't really a joke, but he played it off as one.
They kept driving, talking, not chatting, but legitimately conversing over certain subjects. Eventually, the dreamer fixed his focus entirely upon her, and her on him, until the familiar blare of a siren filled their ears and flashing lights interrupted the otherwise calm setting.
"Shit..." Said the dreamer, shifting his attention to the speedometer, which read fifteen over the limit. He wasn't worried, only slightly aggravated. "Hide the radar detector," he dictated quickly, "just stick it in your purse or something." He did all the things that he was told: he kept his seatbelt on, put his hands on the wheel, took out his wallet, turned on the light and, most importantly, shut his mouth.
"Any place you were goin' in such a hurry, boy?" Came the voice of the policeman, blinding the dreamer with his flashlight.
"Just dropping her off at home," said the dreamer, motioning to the back seat, "sir." He added smoothly.
Two minutes later, they were on the road again. All it took was a little smooth talking and some logic to get out of that bind. Yet another two minutes passed, and they arrived at their destination. The dreamer and the goddess exited the car and heaved the drunk into her house, preparing some kind of excuse to give, only to find the house completely empty. After dropping the drunk off in her bed, the two of them made their way to the car.
Distractions happen.
About half an hour later, they were on the road again. Somehow, the night sky seemed darker, even though midnight was several hour prior. Thinking nothing of it, the dreamer and the goddess made their way south on a simple suggestion.
"Let's go get some Denny's." The goddess suggested enthusiastically, obviously hungry and having not eaten for several hours.
"Sounds good," replied the dreamer with a smirk, "let's go."
The streets had become eerily vibrant for that hour, and there was an unsettling feeling in the air, the kind that would deter a spiritualist from traveling. They continued to speak, from the heart, and giving each other their full attention, for several more miles. That's when the tragedy happened. Without warning, the headlights on the car flickered out, leaving the pair blind to the lines and signs on the road, and forced them to rely on the headlights of others. Lacking control of himself, the dreamer slowly let the car drift to the left. His last moments were spent as an observer, watching as his body refused to respond, despite the raging wails of car horns and the furious burning of headlights in his wake.
Crash.
On that note, there might as well have been two of them in the car, the drunk only gave them purpose to be out. She was passed out in the back seat, being chauffeured through the night after a night of hard partying, perhaps a bit too hard. The dreamer was driving, his eyes reluctantly focused on the road, his mind obviously elsewhere. Then there was the goddess, sitting in the passenger seat staring attently out the window, as if looking for something.
Occasionally, the dreamer would take his eyes from the road to look at her, flicking the filter of her late cigarette out the window and igniting another. It was safe, the roads were surprisingly barren for this time of night. The road was relatively straight as well; save the intermittant rotation of the wheel, one could simply drift and enjoy the scenery under the moonlight. Eventually, they spoke. There was no awkward silence, it was all comfortable. There was no fiddling with the radio or keeping busy, the two of them simply smiled at the silence, reveling in the moment.
The goddess was the first to speak. "They say nature is chaotic," she remarked, the words slowly slipping off her tongue, "but if you look out there you won't see war, or death, or evil. It's all calm."
"But chaos doesn't need to be loud," the dreamer replied, "chaos can be as simple as a series of changes."
"Chaos isn't the right word... tonight has no-"
"Sin?" The dreamer suggested, offering an equally suggestive look, the nature of which was predictable under the circumstances.
The goddess laughed quietly to herself, like she would to many of his jokes. It was the perfect volume, loud enough to confirm that he was amusing her but quiet enough so as not to overemphasize the joke. Truth be told, it wasn't really a joke, but he played it off as one.
They kept driving, talking, not chatting, but legitimately conversing over certain subjects. Eventually, the dreamer fixed his focus entirely upon her, and her on him, until the familiar blare of a siren filled their ears and flashing lights interrupted the otherwise calm setting.
"Shit..." Said the dreamer, shifting his attention to the speedometer, which read fifteen over the limit. He wasn't worried, only slightly aggravated. "Hide the radar detector," he dictated quickly, "just stick it in your purse or something." He did all the things that he was told: he kept his seatbelt on, put his hands on the wheel, took out his wallet, turned on the light and, most importantly, shut his mouth.
"Any place you were goin' in such a hurry, boy?" Came the voice of the policeman, blinding the dreamer with his flashlight.
"Just dropping her off at home," said the dreamer, motioning to the back seat, "sir." He added smoothly.
Two minutes later, they were on the road again. All it took was a little smooth talking and some logic to get out of that bind. Yet another two minutes passed, and they arrived at their destination. The dreamer and the goddess exited the car and heaved the drunk into her house, preparing some kind of excuse to give, only to find the house completely empty. After dropping the drunk off in her bed, the two of them made their way to the car.
Distractions happen.
About half an hour later, they were on the road again. Somehow, the night sky seemed darker, even though midnight was several hour prior. Thinking nothing of it, the dreamer and the goddess made their way south on a simple suggestion.
"Let's go get some Denny's." The goddess suggested enthusiastically, obviously hungry and having not eaten for several hours.
"Sounds good," replied the dreamer with a smirk, "let's go."
The streets had become eerily vibrant for that hour, and there was an unsettling feeling in the air, the kind that would deter a spiritualist from traveling. They continued to speak, from the heart, and giving each other their full attention, for several more miles. That's when the tragedy happened. Without warning, the headlights on the car flickered out, leaving the pair blind to the lines and signs on the road, and forced them to rely on the headlights of others. Lacking control of himself, the dreamer slowly let the car drift to the left. His last moments were spent as an observer, watching as his body refused to respond, despite the raging wails of car horns and the furious burning of headlights in his wake.
Crash.
posted by Dylan at 11:34 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home