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Turn Right on Water St.

(Ed. Note - this is the first in what will be an ongoing series of non-news and otherwise fiction-based posts. look for them in THE ARTS section).

It’s dark. It’s late.

I’m speeding along an isolated Texas highway. I’m tired and on the verge of tears. I wish I could pull over and sleep. I wish I could pull over and cry.

I carry on into the darkness.

Apart from the road lit by my headlamps - a narrow swath directly ahead of me - I can see nothing. Only when I pass through one of the nameless sleepy towns that dot my path there is anything to look at beyond the stripes on the road. The streets of these towns are barely lit by their street lights and their filthy yellow emanations. I see no one in the towns.

These are towns to which 12:00 AM is a scary and foreign place - one people they dare not venture out into without a good reason.

Hours pass. Towns pass. I do not see a soul.

The completeness of the loneliness of this night is overwhelming - even more so with the knowledge that in every of these houses I pass are filled with people - who live with and love one another. Yet, here I am, flying through this ever-expanding darkness towards a secluded existence I do not know if I wish to reach.

Leaving another town I see a solitary reflection of myself, drive past, towards where I have already been - I do not care to wonder about his final destination, I am preoccupied with mine.

A traffic light turns red, I stop. At the edge of the light I see a man standing at the corner - all by himself, waiting for something or someone. He looks at me, seemingly confused about why I am out and disturbing his corner at this time of night. He nods in my direction, as a way of greeting. I nod back, look away, and proceed on my way home.

The miles are wearing on me now. I am willing to accept the refuge of home. The night is beating me. I am weary and ready for this sad drive to come to an end. Even the radio betrays me now:

“Once upon a time you dressed so fine…”

Resigned to my fate, resigned to the truth:

I drive directly into the undeniable, absolute certainty that nothing will ever be the same again.

18 May, 2010