Northern_Lights_2016

51 Recurring Roads The road had never seemed so winding, at least not to get there. It had, for a time, been a constant in his mind, riling. This burning sickness of desire had almost become his friend. After spending years with it, he had grown to know it more than any other thing. Any man left to his own thoughts will know what tortures him better than anyone. It had grown in him and its fast approaching termination scared him. His comfort blanket of fears and reservation would soon have to be lifted, and he wasn’t ready. The car had sat in the yard for years. It too had sat heavy but it was seldom in the young man’s thoughts. It was unlike the desire that had the ability to perk up whenever it felt like it. It could not torture him constantly for he never encountered it in his daily life. It just sat, as a symbol of this desire, never burning, only deteriorating. The day had come to kick it. He had to learn, no matter what. So he went in. He was cleared, now legal. The road now yearned for his presence or at least that’s how it seemed. Artificial containment puts all in danger. When freedom is touted as what you always need, then sacrifices will be made and judgement relapsed. Forcing someone to imprison themselves is a vile technique. Never hold back those who have the capacity for self-control. The key was glued to his hand. There was not anything else that called to him. It called to him. Come express, come coast, come coast, come see what you have missed. The car came to life as a monstrous bear would awake from its winter slumber. The roar it let out was compara- ble to the cry of thousands of tortured, trapped souls screaming out after their graves had just been crushed. Nothing could have been louder or more releasing. The roar of the car filled the boy with guilt. Everything that had been held in and had been stewing for years hit him harder than the roar of the car hit the air. The vehicle purred and sent gentle ripples of force up his legs. He could drive now. Out on his own, controlling a beast that roared with revenge. Where could he go? He could only keep going, following the twists and turns that came before him. Any stop seemed pithy. They tried their hardest to remind him of his former estate. Each take off from these stops seemed like a stark remark of what was now passed. He took along the one he loved. It was less of an invitation and more of an expectation. A simple “come driving with me” and a somber look as one would have when they cannot express thought. He had always loved her, regard- less. Even if she didn’t love him, he loved her. Her very presence was enough for him. Nothing more. So they drove in silence. As silent as two can be in the presence of so many scorned souls. He took the high roads. The long curvy, mountain terrain. Roads which, if not in pristine state of mind, would devour those who are weary. He was weary in a sense, but to an extent. Each curve was a new venture. They called out and taunted him to warn him of his own position, but the roar of the car and the solid silence in the cabin drowned out the doomsayers that spoke so swiftly. The silence was never broken. It filled the cabin with an eerie fog of missed moments and words unsaid. He had nothing to say except that which it was not the right time for. The time before them seemed endless. Neither looked in a direction they didn’t have to. Eye contact would have ended too many things. They drove on for hours, reaching the crest of a mountain by the crest of the sunset. The turn was a hard one, a couple signs were missing; it was unexpected. He didn’t care anymore. It didn’t hurt when a simple biff off a curb sent them off, off into a valley, with a forest at the bottom. The fall was silent. Both looked straight forward, neither one cared about the other’s thoughts at this point. So the car flew, soared more like. Everything stayed in place. The boy’s foot light on the brakes, the wheels spinning as they were, the motor spewing curses as it had all day. The only thing that moved was the girl’s hair. It shifted with the gravity. And then suddenly a tree. Trees, by their nature, make the best barriers. They sit and wait their turn to wake someone from what binds them. For, isn’t that what they are anyways? Trees seem more like trapped souls, always watching. In a sense, they are just stationary consultants, waiting for, one day, someone seeking them for consolation. There was nothing that could wake him up. He slept for days it seemed. When he awoke, everything was the same. The silence hung in the air as it did the day, or days, beforehand but still he looked towards the girl. Her bloodied frame hung in the same manner as the days before, her head propped to look out the window. His ears rang with the feroc- ity the motor had had beforehand. At first, he welcomed the ambiance for the still silence continued to taunt him. It became unbearable so he crawled out of the car. He stood and watched the car. A sleeping fallen beast lay before him. Mangled and past its prime, yet peaceful. He walked up the valley they had ascended once before, but this time he was on foot. He walked for hours on the route he had taken with her. The twisting, winding, billowing road led through the mountains. A bridge passed over a gully. The girl was beautiful, no matter what she said. Her shining hair and perfect smile drew all near. He had always loved her, if he could call it love. He used to stew on matters of hers to the point of sickness. They always got along. Will Tiensvold