We're on the road to nowhere
We're on the road to nowhere. Just driving down galactic avenue close to the highway of open space. Actually, it's just northeastern Indianapolis.
Hot for a Wednesday in February so the lever on the door wouldn't rotate anymore left. The snickers bar I bought a couple miles back began to melt, so I threw the rest out the window.
Half melted and half eaten. As I launched the delicious delight, a strong odor overcame my senses.
Not the scent of succulent caramel or rich milk chocolate, it was bitter, palpable, but nothing a tongue would desire.
There were two people off in the distance standing next to a jeep emitting heavy greyish smoke. The dark figures were waving their arms frantically. Maybe because of the smoke.
Maybe they needed our assistance. I surmised, at this hour, nefarious activities would occur if our driver was compelled to help the stranded strangers.
I envisioned a scenario in which we all end up in a cheap motel room with just enough time to see our intestines sprawled upon each other's bodies. Mouths agape, frozen in fear and terror.
Traumas that wouldn't fully develop into mental illness months or even years in the future.
Just enough conscience to understand death is inevitable, life fragile and delicate, pondering in violent, peaceful, agony. That may have been a movie though. We passed them quickly.
The drivers invidious reaction makes me question if we go to the same cinema. No one spoke for a very long time. At one point, I felt there was only one person here.
I felt little remorse for these strangers. Our existence is the problem with our existence. Adapting to a world that we weren't meant to adapt to. Or at least it seems that way to me.
Maybe we evolved to be callous, cold and corrupt. If only I could leave this world I so much don't belong in. The breaks made a screech as the car halted and shook me out of my flowing thoughts.
Only a couple miles away from the stranded ones. My mind drifted for so long, I would have thought we've been driving for hours since we last saw them. Deception of the mind.
Why go back? Driving back would only give these nobodies an inclination that we are their saviors. This world has made me distrust and dislike most of my fellow skin-walkers.
I remember growing up my father would always say, "everything happens for a reason." Some kind of divine intervention that I could not grasp. Sounds good; definitely quote worthy.
Not very ethical. It's typical for a person who lives for the sake of dying to need that sense of ignorant purpose.
An explanation, or rather, an excuse for the bullshittery that occurs in our daily lives. God's plan, God's will. A ready response for the readily unlucky.
If you ask me everything happens for reason. Just because. Arbitration at it's finest. Just makes fucking sense. A car door slams. Then another. Then another.
Finally, feeling alone, I decide to also slam my door. "You guys need any help?" Someone says. No response. The dust was now at shoulders height from the rustling of sliding converse.
Dense and hard to see in the moonlight. I just bought these yesterday.
Positioned about fifty yards away was a barn that was also hard to make out since the tall trees behind shadowed most of it.
They approached the smoking pile of metal and I began to see the damage upon my arrival. It was horrible.
The front part of the jeep was dented in so bad, it looked like a baby's mouth after trying a lemon for the first time. Devouring itself to the front of the windshield.
As if it began to melt like a cylindrical candle. Half melted, and half hungry. The top was completely gone. The wheels were almost touching due to the middle frame dented in and upwards.
No one spoke. There's no way someone was going to walk away from a crash of this caliber, let alone be living and waving their arms.
Confused noises quietly emerged though the hiss of the mechanical mixup. Words were spoken and theories were made. I remained silent. Silence is my dark passenger.
Keeping me from exposing thoughts of my malice, and thought of my sympathy. I like to be inside, never outside my mind. Safe; walled castle of unheard thoughts.
I remained seated quietly in the front until the car was full. "Where did they go?" The driver said looking in the rearview mirror. "We should probably leave.
" A ticking sound emitted from the starter. A couple times more. Nothing but ticking. "Great." The driver said. "Looks like we're the ones stranded now." Someone from the back said.
"Maybe we should go to that barn over there, that might be where the others are." She continued. A plan was made so two would explore the barn, while the other two remained by the car.
Stranded to be helped by strangers. We made our walk to the dark side of the barren corn field onward to the formidable building.
I looked at my companion and the fear in her eyes was almost invisible due to the glare of the moonlight.
Mine must have been, along with half of my face since the moon was behind me at shoulder height.
Also due to the fact that there was a sound of relief coming from her voice when she said, "I'm glad I came with you.
" Puzzled, I tried to analyze these words as I continued to walk slowly at her left side. I surmised her reasoning as valid since I am the realist of our group.
I would react accordingly, logically, not emotionally. "Me too." I said. I didn't really want to say anything. Approaching the barn came quicker than I'd hoped.
Why would anyone come to such a decrepit place? No one living has been within this place since... however long.
You could tell from the mold and bad mildew smells that came oozing out the gaping mouth of the bad-breath foundation.
With trimmed off-white windows reminiscent of rotting teeth each coated in it's own plaque build up of... something.
Red walls took the place of gingivitis diseased gums that appear as they're bleeding.
Only because the paint was so badly discolored with different hues of maroon scattered in just the right spots. Tongue shaped beds of hay mixed with parts of dying grass.
Random piles of decaying vegetation like textured taste-buds sprawled upon peering dirt, eyeing our welcome. A welcome that felt uninviting.
Placing my palm against the moist plack tilted my posture as I tried to press and pull open the door. Rotting decaying flesh.
Tasing our feet as we trespassed inside, the groan of the much needed WD40 door made it seem we displeased our host, which embodied a disgust of our violating flavor.
As I looked back from the gaping mouth, I could just make out flailing appendages swimming in the dark navy sky. Imitating a horse galloping upside down.
I turn to completely submerge myself in the darkness and reach for my phone. No signal of course, but I felt like I already knew that was the case.
Fingering the device, slide downward with the tip and locate the flashlight button with my thumb.
Placing my hand on a plank for balance, Knocking over about five others that fall fast from the loft in the middle of the barn.
Then a ladder falls in just the right spot at just the right angle against the loft. As if to say, "Welcome.
" "Why not come up?" Before I shine my phone to illuminate the loft with my flashlight, my companion is already halfway up the ladder.
Her foot slips on the mossy wooden rungs that are cylindrical in shape not very practical of its intended purpose.
I shine my light on her as she says, "It's like it's calling us to come up here." She said with slight amusement. "Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?" I grimace. As I find the w
ords to respond, the flashlight on my phone goes out. Looking down at the top right area of the touchscreen, I see a tiny red line inside a white outline of a battery. 3% reads to the left of it.