Into the Silence I Return

Narcissistic, alcoholic, maniac driver blips around town to live life fully only to discover that his actions have consequences. E.A. Poe inspired writing style.

 

True!-nervous-very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?" –E.A. Poe

 

It is the very fear that you have of me which I myself conclude as the spirit, the unstoppable force that drives me; drive, I say befittingly because it is when I drive that I am consumed by this, this intoxicating, nerve-racking... I find it hard to put into words, but an example! Oh yes what an example this will make. As I sit in the soft textured leather of my beautiful, Imported, Italian, automobile, I can feel my adrenaline surge. The intense smell of grease and oil compounded with the delicate breeze of leather and polish fills my head with the dreams only such a machine can make, I can almost taste the blood and sweat put into the creation of such a beast.

 

The gentle purr of the engine is everything, as I gracefully shift into second gear, now third; the roar of the exhaust sets off a few alarms but what is that to me? A few sips from a flask, and the world opens up, my mind is finally free. I downshift; I roar, for the world to know that I am here and to make my presence known. The darkness of the night surrounds me like a blanket of safety; the earth is my airbag, my assurance, as I soar through this earth; more alive now than I have ever been.

I pull up to a light to see a magnificent creature. Its taillights shining majestically haloed in the gentle poring rain, the shape confuses me with its calm demeanor, and I lust after it.

 

When I stop on the line at the red light, my only thoughts are bent on enticing the driver to open her up, a race between our magnificent creations. Another swig from the flask which is almost empty by now, the driver glances at me so I ease my foot down on the throttle, the engine answers at a my call. The other driver seems nervous, he shifts his glances and avoids eye contact; he seems afraid for some reason, though he has an unmistakable confidence about him. He appears like a knight, dressed in a white dress shirt sitting in a magnificent display of power, power that is his to do with what he will, but yet he is hesitant, what is he afraid of losing?

 

I am furious at the timidity of the other driver. The light changes colors, like candy to my eye the apple green appeases my want to be free—it frees me from my caged obedience to the rode. I speed off, my eyes glancing at the shadow of the scenery passing around me as I leave the city. The faster I climb the more attentive I become. Now on the road ahead I see nothing in my path; now at the sides of the road I see no obstacles that will crawl to delay my precious ride; now at my rear no dangers lurk maliciously behind; now at my gauges I see the needle nearing redline, it passes into a dangerous zone.

 

I approach a curving mountainside, no guardrail is present but what is that to me? My safety is proven in the earth—in what I’ve proven I can do. I do not slow down for the corner approaching, I move with it. I double clutch. Blipping the throttle just enough to remain in the power band, exceeding the limits of what even I have ever done before. Exiting the corner with the pedal to the floor I build my speed again delighting in my self-reverence.

 

Into the night I fly immortal in this very moment, not burdened by night or day or time of year, I am in the time between times. My long heroic hair streaming back like a cape in the wind, I jam the shifter into fourth and simultaneously pop the clutch. Coming around the long bend my tires screech with life pushing the limits of their identity. I see the steep drop down the mountain as the trees fade into the blackness below. I play with the guardrail now present—as if I needed the protection. I downshift into fourth, the engine screams with delight, and I delight in it.

 

The smell of nature streaming through my window revives me, the moon shining with vigor like a fire blazing a mellow blue as it dances on the mountains in the distance, it lights the mountaintops ahead and reveals its secrets, like a cloud of the earth, ordained by god, and it is for me to conquer yet!

 

Life is precious Life is wonderful. As I reenter the city, back to earth I find myself on a straightaway. The turbo charged engine gloating in its power, now at 140 miles per hour, now at 150. Faster now than reason dictates I should go but reason is beside the point. I breathe in deeply and pure joy rushes with haste to fill my head full of a dizzy relaxation. A relaxation soon ended. A sudden and complete hate overwhelms me in an instant, for in the mirror are the flashing colors of red and blue, red and blue. The miserable beacon of mine enemy has managed to come upon me.

The enemy is in chase. A tight bend now, I must slow at a magnificent pace. An overpass now and I sail under; the dust clashes about me like a terrible and furious wave. An off ramp and now I am flying low with a speed untouchable under my reassuring sky! Heal-Toe, Heal-Toe, the groove in my carpet thickens as I shift in mere half’s of seconds to defeat this corner and now this one. The flashing lights are lost behind me. Victory is mine! I turn around to appreciate my accomplishment, all thoughts focused on my victory over the dangers lurking behind... POW! I slam into something, spinning uncontrollably. Something hits me again. My head rings with a sound I cannot bear. I reach for my ears. My arms don't move. I look around but darkness is everything. Time slows—it’s amazing and terrifying how, in these situations, thoughts pass through your mind with such speed and clarity while every moment takes a lifetime to pass and yet afterwards, all thoughts become a blur.

 After a moment of stillness I can see faintly again, though the ringing in my ears blinds my thoughts. All time seems to have slowed down; I move but am delayed in movement. I can perceive an object construed in the middle of the rode. It has certain properties of a car; I see a wheel twisted sideways under a bent side-skirt, I see headlights still glowing with a hazy blue halo design, the only source of light besides that of the glaring moon. There is something strange about this object that catches my attention. I can think of nothing but of the familiar presence surrounding this thing, this artwork of twisted steal and rubber.

 

As I allow my attention to draw across the shape and form of what I presume is a car, my aching head mellows with a vibrant humming and the patter of rain. The twisted car is black and smooth but not whole. The angle of the car prevents my complete examination but I can feel it has lost something, the loss of what I am not yet certain. The smooth glossy surface is here and there bent and contorted in the reflection of the moon. My curiosity stops as a face appears in the reflection of the bent fiberglass. I see my face, bleeding and motionless, mouth half open with a stream of blood trickling down my neck staining an otherwise perfect white blouse. My hair is wild in the reflection but motionless, frozen in agony it seems. I am dying, this reflection is me dying. No. No, it is not my reflection but that of another, someone I know or knew, someone I remember as if in a dream. Time begins to pick up unexpectedly and the reflection is lost, the unbearable ache revives itself catching me off guard and throwing my thoughts to random confusion. I try to hold fast in my mind try to remain calm, I can feel my body shaking, my left hand especially- pressed against my face soaked in tears streaming freely, the flesh of my face moves like putty against my hand. At moments I can see, I view the scene through a broken lens and catch only glances like flashes from a strobe light, but what I do see terrifies me.

 

The face I see in the reflection I recognize now, it is the face of the other driver, the one from the stoplight earlier that night. He no longer shifts about; neither does he appear nervous. He is calm; he sits now silently with the presence of one who knows his path. I see the car clearly, bent and broken in the flashing lights of the approaching emergency vehicles. I notice again at the man lying still in the street, not merely his reflection but I see his actual body this time. Something is wrong. I see other men, dressed in bright yellow with black and silver lines, yellow hat and yellow boots. They pick up the arms of the man on the ground and slide him along the gritty gravel. I stare into the eyes of the man being drug like an empty sack and see nothing in them. I begin to wonder at this but only for a moment as I soon realize there is something missing from this man. I see the head clearly still peaceful and pale, I see the white blouse pure and innocent but tainted with the crimson blood, but as I glance further down, as the yellow men hoist the body up onto a table, the head tilted downwards, the upper torso hangs motionless from the shoulders, below the blood soaked shirt there is nothing! No pants, no legs, no feet, no shoes. A soulless head swings like a tetherball while blood streams from the torn shirt, his body cut in half at the waist.

 

A lady rushes to the body. Her moves are graceful. The pain in her eyes only adds to her disturbed beauty. She clutches what is left of the man in agony. She bloodies herself with his blood and begins pounding at what is left of the cold meat on the table. The men in yellow pull her away and as she is being torn from her dead lover my heart turns black as she caresses the bloodied head, one last sweeping touch for her to remember him by.

I weep—I burn—I shudder while I watch the damnable atrocity, for now I realized what I have done, so quickly I stole their love. If only I can atone for what I have done. If only I can giver her back what I stole, but reality is never what you want it to be.

 

I do not want to be, I want to have never of been. Out of the ground hands are grabbing me, pulling me down with strength sure as death. I gasp for a breath and try to yell, try to say, to only whisper an apology. Silence only comes from my lips, and into the silence I return.

Author's Note

let me know about grammar problems, let me know where i should clean up sentence structure.

Reviews

[Peter Reyes]

First paragraph you capitalized the word imported. Nothing big, but I caught it.

Third paragraph: poring should be spelled pouring.

Fourth paragraph: the engine answers at a my call... I'm guessing you want to remove the a after the at (I make mistakes like that all the time, especially when I do a lot of editing).

Eighth paragraph: I feel that one can use a period between here ... the moon shining with vigor like a fire blazing a mellow blue as it dances on the mountains in the distance, and here it lights the mountaintops ahead and reveals its secrets... But that could just be me.

Ninth paragraph: I perceived a few problems there. Read that one to yourself a few times. Sorry for not being more specific, but I'm running short on time. Maybe we can discuss it when I get another chance.

Eleventh paragraph: rode should be road and steal should be steel.

There were some other things I caught, but, like I said before, I'm short on time. Overall, I like your style and would definitely like to look at more of your work. What comes through in this piece is your seriousness about writing, and that's inspiring for me on many levels.

Thanks for sharing. Peace.

[Gabi Celaya]

"which I myself conclude as the spirit" It's not clear what that means.
"The gentle purr of the engine" I don't think purr is appropriate here. On one level, yes, comparing your car to a cat is sinister because of its innocence in an otherwise ominous context, but put so early I don't think you've drawn the reader in to the point where there's not a risk of them laughing at it.
"Iam more alive" Small typo, you forgot the space.
"Another swig from the flask which is almost empty by now, the driver glances at me so I ease my foot down on the throttle, the engine answers at my call." I would start a new sentence after "by now", as the previous clause reads as an offhand thought that does not need to be part of the next sentence. If you do take that suggestion, then you should probably also swap the comma after "throttle" for an "and".
"dressed in a white dress shirt sitting astride a magnificent beast" Cut out the "dress" in "white dress shirt" and change "sitting astride" to either "straddling" or "a white shirt, astride a magnificent beast".
"but yet he is hesitant, what is he afraid of losing?" The second clause sounds like it should be a sentence in and of itself.
"I am furious at the timidity of the other driver." This is classic 'telling, not showing'. So rather than just state that you're furious, having your narrator do something which suggests it. Maybe he unconsciously begins to rev the car, only stopping when the other driver's reaction makes him realize what he's doing. You can still state the fact after the action, in case the reader hasn't read your intention properly, but give your more perceptive readers the chance to make the connection for themselves.
"obedience to the rode" Either it's a pun (which personally I don't get the humour of, although I do see both of the meanings) or you meant to spell "road".
"in what I've proven I can do. I do not slow down" That's perfect iambic meter, which is always great to read in prose (as in "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times.") Quite a lot of this paragraph is close to being perfectly iambic, but that short section I quoted is flawless in the rhythm.
"Heal-Toe, Heal-Toe," If you mean the driving technique, then the part of the foot is spelt "heel", and I don't think you need to capitalize every one of the words, it made me think that it was a brand name or shop you were passing when I first read it.
"... POW!" That's too like those old Batman cartoons to be taken seriously. I'm sure you can find a better way to startle the reader without making them laugh. Maybe actually describing the sound, rather than resorting to onomatopoeia.
"head as inertia forces me up and down" this is more of a pedantic point, rather than a literary one, but inertia can't actually force you anywhere. What inertia does it keep you still in relation to things that are moving around you.
That's as far as I've gotten, and I'll complete the rest later. Most of it is pretty untouchable for the most part, but occasionally it reeks to much of Poe and not of your own voice.

[nostal]

Interesting read, immensely enjoyable and well-written. Also very descriptive, and nicely flowing. Great job.

[aljelo]

Very strong imagery! You can sense by the build-up of almost arrogant exhiliration that this will end in tragedy. The only thing that confused me is when you said that the body was hoisted onto the table. Where did the table come from? Are you still at the accident scene or in the emergency room? Otherwise, though, very evocative.