Mountain Run
The night hair was warm against his face. He liked driving with the top down, it gave him a sense of freedom like nothing ever had before. He let the engine unwind as he took a curve. There would be no room for mistakes. Everything had to be perfect. The slightest miss calculation would lead to his demise, and a steep plummet down the mountain to the city lights below. He passed through the curve with ease and entered the straight away. His hand slowly and smoothly reached down and shifted gears. He let off the clutch and press the gas pedal to the floor. The engine came alive as it roared forward. He was quickly reaching speed, and would soon shift gears. And then, he saw her. Pale skinned, dressed all in white, standing in the middle of the road. He had to think fast and react faster. He slammed on the brakes and tried to keep straight, any deviation would have been certain death. On his right was the side of the mountain, and on his left a sudden drop down into the valley with only the short guardrail to stop him. His hand slips slightly on the wheel and he drifts ever so slightly to right, just enough to touch the side of the mountain. He loses control and veers to the left. The guard rail gets closer and closer. He tries to correct his path, but to no avail. He closes his eyes and accepts his fate. The front of the car plows through the guardrail like it was never there. He opens his eyes and watches as the ground rushes towards him. He falls for what seems like hours until he hits a rock protruding from the side of the mountain. The car flips and spins as it rolls against the solid rock face of Mistress mountain. The 1936 Ford Roadster comes to a stop when it hits a side of the road lower down the mountain. The car has come to a rest and he opens his eyes. He is still alive. He looks around and recognizes where he is. But, the driver side door is crushed against him. He cries out for help, but there is no one to hear him. He carefully tries to pull him self out of the wreckage, but is too stuck. His leg is pinned to the seat and floorboard. Then, the ground beneath him starts to lightly shake. The car is barely on the edge and teetering off. the ground breaks away and the Ford begins its drop again. He thinks of all of those throughout his life that made him happy; his ex, what a stupid fight, he still loved her, his mother, always there, his brother, who would give him anything he could ask for, and how he would never see them again. A single tear fell from his eye as he plummeted to the bottom of the mountain. When he finally reached the bottom, the car rolled and spun until it firmly rested on its side. After a moment he opened his eyes and glanced around. Loud, shrill laughter was all around him. It drowned out any other sound as he slowly closed his eyes and drifted away.
Midnight Slumber
He walked slowly through the halls, careful not to make a sound. The
slightest whisper and all the planning and agonizing over every detail
would be for nothing. He crept closer and closer, his heart pounded, he
was sure they would hear. But, the only sound was that of the gentle
breathing of those around him deep in slumber. He reached the door. It
must me opened an inch at a time. These doors are old, and moan in agony if not handled with care. he is not here for their pain. This night is for the task at hand. The door is open, and he silently thanks it for its cooperation. He is one step closer to his prize. There is no glory, no pride in what is to be done. The figure lay still in his bed made of gold, only his chest rising and falling with each devious breath. The blade appears, gently capturing the moonlight in its cool steel. He must be swift as to not awaken the sleeping tyrant. The cold blade is placed against this beasts throat, his eyes catch the reflecting moonlight. His hand, steady and smooth, covers the mouth of tyranny, and he stares into his eyes as the knife slices and his life fades. The mission is complete, there is nothing left. He falls to his knees, and watches as the blood drips onto the
floor. The sun is rising, and he will soon be discovered. He must make
his escape.
July 13th 1945
War rages on overseas. I did my time out there, on the front lines. This piece of shrapnel in my leg sent me home early. Damn grenades. I picked up right where I left off, hunting down those who do not want to be found. It’s easy work, it’s honest work. I awaken in a cold sweat. Another nightmare, another memory. I left the window open again, and the night breeze saunters in. I light up a smoke and take a look outside. Off in the distance a long siren wails. Go get ‘em boys! The moon illuminates my room, and reflects off her picture. I keep it on my dresser, though I can’t stand to look at it. She keeps me company, and protects me from myself. There’s a knock at my door. It’s too early for a house call. I grab my pistol and unlock the door. And there she stands, tears streaming down her face, the most beautiful sight I have seen in a very long time. She looks up at me with those big green eyes, and I’m hers. I bring her inside and give her a seat. I offer her a drink, but she declines. More for me then. Through sobs and tears she tells me her fiancé, some big shot banker or something, has gone missing two days before their big wedding. I remember reading about it in the paper. Yesterday, they were the perfect couple, tonight she finds a note saying “Goodbye”. She’s a wreck. I tell her I’ll find him; he probably just got cold feet. Open and shut case. I lie through my teeth. She smiles for the first time tonight, and wraps her arms around me in thanks. I know he is long gone by now, but she needs that hope. I give her my card, and she writes down her number. And as quickly as she showed up, she is gone; I am alone again. The smell of her perfume lingers as I pick up the card. “Jessie”. I finish my drink and go back to bed. This can wait ‘til morning.