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Short Story

Bright lights of night

The drive in the night investigated the inner beauty that was soon to be seen. He had some feelings that left him incapable of understanding. He had no ideas nor grasped the easiness of the feelings that were to plague him for years to come. He felt delighted to have them. Some how he felt special, despite the feelings being so impractical to his desires. He was sleeping awake. Snoozing in life what was supposed to be for others about staying awake. He snuggled in the nights air and the emptiness of his surroundings. The expanse of his existence was greater than the sum of all the awake and sleepers. The road curved and sleeked silently, weaving amongst the sleepers who spoke of nothing but getting through this wakeful life. Their only thoughts succumbed to the snooze button that beeped occasionally to wake them from the stupid slumber, but reset they hit for another time to wake. Maybe soon it will no more penetrate their slumber, and who would have thought that mattered? It never will again, and it never had before his drive into the forest of the subconscious. He sneaked unwittingly there and became part of the parade. It snoozed its way amongst the silent participants. They all stood at the side and spoke nothing of its arrival, and weakened cheered at its passing. It had an appearance of yesterday and the coming of two days ago. Never now, and not never tomorrow. It spoke of nothing new and something unfamiliar. The fumes from his exhaust bellowed a soft vapor the passing of time. How it was impenetrable this very heady existence. It was all in the casket. The bonnet and the crankshaft. How you can sum up the possible gears for it to go up or down a hill of existence. No existence had endurance, just a slumber of casualness and grace.

Never mind the changing of gears, for he taped his mouth amongst solitude of singing. Let it be heard he thought that his mind would be at ease from voices unheard of before or since. Quiet, disconcerting voices never spoken to public. And here he drove through the night of surprise and delight. He noticed the far off windows in darken houses on farmland. A spark of one light alone in the night of a far away place he will never see except from this spot.

How can you drive at this time of the night? What time is it? You never know as it is always dark, but light makes it darker. The light from the windows afar are just one in many thousands of miles apart they seem to take to reach each other’s windows. Farms of other places, other planets verge to make it a night of activity with sleep. Moon is better blown at this rate. It caresses darkens as to smooth the milkiness of the night into a welcoming sight. He followed dreams like this before now, and only now did he speak of them he followed. He ventured down allies, through driveways, upon hills and peaks, and past gates of wonderment and tiredness. He was awake though to his own surroundings and belonging. His car made purrs beyond the human ear. Eyes wept and tears formed a new beginning to past his time as he sang the songs that kept coming from the stereo. His own songs and creations and favoured artists he knew and loved who were all beginning to grate and sound dated. He dated them to be at least forty, the age he was only six years before. And they countered on him to remember them as much as they tried themselves to forget. They sang his history and their own. They forgave themselves many times over, as he obliged to not forget them. He listened for more radio frequencies of yesterday and two days before. Nothing new please. It was not what he had in mind or in soul to reencounter.

Managing a moment to himself, he heard fragrances that mattered to him. He smelt the souls of the backyards that encompassed his mind and passing. Trodden on before the flowers of his youth that became the compost of his present. How could this happen now? Where did this go, he wondered when upon the sight of a curved road did he witness an end to his travels.

The road stopped, and the car had a dead end.

He wanted nothing more except the radio off and the car engine cool for only then could he step out and walk the rest of the way.

Bright lights darkened the night for now and now was all there was.

By M.J. Channon

Creative, interested in arts and entertainment. Voice over experience and radio persona of some sorts. Done things and some other stuff with it as well...

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