Just because I probably won’t seek to publish any of this stuff since it is too personal to be ripped apart by reviewers, I’m going to dole some of it out.
This is, of course, where that Creative Commons license comes into play.
Echoes of Echoes in the Night
Back out on the road. I’ve left the man and his work for another night. His giant, all knowing globe a blue ball of dying American might.
I slide my windows down and head for the trees.
The wail of a Stratocaster echoes over the empty farmlands as it is stroked with a Zippo by a God, sounding like a teenager reaching out for glory alone between the sheets.
A lightning bug smacks into the wind shield, returned to stardust in a sudden flash as I soar through constellations of its brethren as the wipers keep time to the drums on my radio.
The albatross: Is it in shadows in front of me, obscured by dense mists that are quickly becoming the one thing between me and the glass and my death as I curve into the forest.
“What the fuck?”
With a click, I find my brights to banish the shadows. Deep in the fog there was movement. With a shake of my head I see nothing–no deer, no rabbit, no dog, no person wandering along the side of the highway, beginning to be the next legend, the next ghost story told on basic cable TV…. The next cross on the side of the road forgotten by the masses.
There’s just even more swirls in the endless gray.
I nudge the accelerator, the radio screaming, urging me onward as I pass through–and into–the year nineteen seventy and one.