The Run. Or: Two Lovers Flee In The Night From The Strange And Frightening World They Live In.
In the night we ran, we ran away fast, speeding til it hurt, the exhaust jetting out, accelerator pressed against the floor of the car. The street lights streamed behind us through the windows, their fluorescent light burning lines onto the pages of our eyelids. We drove so fast that no one could find us. We drove so fast.
We sat back and we thought about the way the wind against the car sounded like a great river, or a waterfall. And our hearts pounding staccato. Like drums.
Beat. I watched her and she got up and she left with me. And I watched as her life merged seamlessly with mine. As if the addition of fear and abnormality was easy but also meaningless. And we didn’t talk as I drove. Just watched the street lights as they passed. Until there were no street lights any more.
Beat. He said softly when I woke up. Come Now. It’s Time To Go. And there weren’t any other words to describe it. Just going. We drove and we drove as the night deepened and we never, ever looked back. We were strong.
Beat. The petrol lasted the drive. We surged out of the city and nobody saw us. And when we reached the great dark, empty roads outside it, there were no other headlights that passed us by. We were afraid to look back into the bright city, afraid of what we would see. And so the cool night sped past us, chilled, frantic air between us and what we lived before now. And we let that space become wider and wider.
And then the night began to shrink away and when the trees became visible, spiking the horizon, we stopped and we knew we were finished because the petrol tank was empty. We left the car in the middle of the dusty, broken road. We sat on the crisp yellow grass with our backs against the splintery bark of a tree. We watched the night collapse into day. Then we dug a hole underneath the grass and crawled into the warm earth to lay, like rabbits, away from the sun. Then no one could find us, and we waited, feeling one another’s breaths on our cheekbones, for the night to come again.
We tried, but after long our tired hands curled into muddy fists and the dirt beneath our fingernails reached deep enough to hurt. And so we stood and looked at our shallow concave of earth. Then we sat by the roadside hand in hand, waiting for someone to come by. We wept onto one another’s shoulders and when one seemed weak the other was always strong. We waited there until the sun hurt our eyes and the noise of the car metal groaning in the midday sun hurt our ears. And we could sleep in our stupor no more.
BELOW: inspiration for this post was gained from about the first ten seconds of this song. The rest is meaningless to me, but nice.