the roads twist endlessly and i am asking myself how much farther i must take us before it feels foreign. i have never seen these towns, the ones that consist of one store and a few houses and the signs that list state routes lost in the body of law and appraisal. gripping the steering wheel, i negotiate the curves and hills to the millisecond and to the frame with only one eye open. you always wondered how i drove with a coc.k-eyed look and a knock-kneed gait but you found it beautiful, you once told me, that i managed to make machinery perform so well in spite of these handicaps. i am remembering your complexion when you spoke, i am remembering the difficulty of admitting a secret admiration to you, i am remembering when we were kissing once in my front seats of my car and it felt more like we were kissing in the back seats. it was the first time i had ever felt space in a positive sense: the warmth of your cheek against me, the soft light filtering through your hair, the soft color of your lips. it was the first time you told me about love without saying a word. it was when i realized that i did love you. i am gripping the steering wheel harder now. i am telling myself to tell you about this thought, to tell you that i do love you. i don’t want to lose how beautiful it feels, the rising heat in my face and limbs, when i am thinking of telling you how much it means that you will hold my hand in public and kiss me, that you will put your hand under my shirt and whisper. i am telling myself to let this loose, but then there are more turns to take and the road narrows. my brights seem to cast out less far, but not in an intimate way. i am driving, i tell myself, but i have lost the brakes. i am telling you not to panic, but i see the flares of fear rising on your flesh. it has broken; it has fallen into disrepair this early. you look toward me from the passenger side as we are speeding uncontrollably and i can tell there are no tears in your eyes. the clarity of your severity moves me. you say there’s no reason to be afraid, everything works out for the best. i want to roll the windows down and turn up the music but i didn’t time the moment right: all at once we are gazing down the headlights toward the trunks of trees and the road has been lost. they never managed to erect the sign of the hazard of this last curve, this arc of light, carrying time, moving endlessly outward, away. we hit the first of three trees. the impact, the glass, the sudden deceleration: neither of us scream or move. we surrender in a plausible way. we spin and hit two more trees but i am not sure when. at some point, i hear your skull hit the side door window loud enough to make a sound. the door has crumpled into my side. glass is everywhere. we have stopped finally, but i cannot make out the shapes of anything. in my mind, i somehow see the crash and wreckage from twenty feet back playing in a casual pace. there is still music playing but it sounds horrifying. i keep thinking that it looks like a situation that is difficult to survive. i cannot remove myself from the vehicle and my position in space. i try to look over at you but my neck is stiff and wet and warm. my throat makes no sound when i want it to. no last confession will be made. i wonder if anyone will be able to make us out from the road, looking down their headlights, noticing the glimmer of steel, wondering what got thrown away in the wilderness of america.
Last edited by hippieboy444 at Sep 2, 2013,
This was very very captivating. The way let us in these final moments, the thoughts and up until the end I left wondering if he'd even survived. Well written of course (whats other to expect from you guys?) a good detailed story. Was he handicapped enough to miss the brakes? Or where they faulty to begin with? The way you tell it is also very subtle, as if everything will be allright, to leave it up to the chances of luck. Or perhaps a train of thoughts just before the impact? You left me engaged and wanting to read it more than twice! Good sir, very good. Any chance you would look up my story as well? Right below in the sig, if you got the time that is. Seems I really need some precious advice with it.
Last edited by Eccer at Sep 2, 2013,
some parts of this were trying a little too hard to be in character, watering down the overall personality in run on sentences and comma splices. and i would have really liked some paragraph breaks. but this was an excellent piece. thank you for sharing it.
yeah, it's kind of a trainwreck at the moment and maybe i like it that way. not sure though. as for the actually content, i wasn't trying to make the man actually handicapped...just a word to describe the general flaws. maybe it doesn't make sense then though.
wow i really loved it overall. I do think there are some obvious improvements. I can maybe point some of them out if you'd like, in the afternoon tomorrow. but I am glad to have read this and glad you are posting.
yeah i revised it and broke it up into five paragraphs or so. still a work in progress. this was solidly first draft material.
thanks for wotw.
Two weeks in here. Lucky you