Six thousand miles in the wrong direction but all he can think about is the cavalcade of sighs if he turned back. With a heavy heart weighing down his foot on the pedal, the amount of gas inside the car became unimportant. His girl was waiting for him at the end of the side of a bridge. Her name could be Gravity or Splash or any other clever twist and turn of language to denounce his fate as a romanticized walk off stage in the arms of some abstract feminized end. Even the analogy for his exit was too sickeningly played out for him to stomach thinking of any further. The radio begged the impromptu racer to turn back, wheels spinning against the road louder in a silly attempt to drown them out. The finish line was near. Hazy streetlights showing him just where to park beyond the railing. However, there was a dragon there. A big one. The car skid to a crying halt while the scaled behemoth bellowed its wings in a hard push upwards towards the starry sky. Balmy hands twisted at the steering wheel, eyes wide at the sight. It must have emerged from the river below, looking glossed and shiny as it ascended higher and higher with violent gusts accompanying each flap. Three of them flipped his car over. The fourth had it pushed against the railing. From the back seat, he managed to crawl out onto the blacktop dragging his sword behind him. The trail of frost its edge left ended as he hoisted it up over his shoulder posed like an all-star batter on the plate. It must have noticed his stance. Daring him, it began to swoop down.
Posted on: Sun, 24 Aug 2014 06:03:06 +0000