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Post by theredshadow on May 25, 2012 22:09:17 GMT -6
November 29
The dreams are coming more often now. Almost every night by this point. In them I see myself, or someone that looks a lot like me. It's sort of like looking through a screen mesh at a mirror; a hazy facsimile only barely mimicking my own actions. In fact, most nights the person in my dream is doing things I could never imagine doing myself. Evil things to people I love. Painful things.
But the worst of it is that I can't remember those people anymore. Were they family? Friends? Even my own companion on this journey right now? I can't remember! I beg for someone to stop me, to awaken me. I verge on madness and insanity until finally a beacon of light breaks through the murky grayness of my dreams. The strange and ethereal light shines from the south. Is that where we must go next? I wonder that as I finally break free of sleep and the ugliness that swims just under the surface.
South or not, first we must complete the trek to the east to New York City. Whatever lays ahead in the washed-out sunlight of the day is beginning to pale in comparison to what lays just beneath awareness and consciousness. Just behind whatever slides away when sleep takes over.
We must be going, the road awaits. We need to put some miles between us... and the darkness.
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Post by theredshadow on May 25, 2012 22:12:36 GMT -6
(Just throwing some stuff at the wall to see what will stick)
I used to find driving a very therapeutic exercise. Late night cross town drives or long daytime sojourns through the country side, complete with cruising music and occasionally some good friends to keep me company. If I ever had a personal issue to think through or was restless and needed to roam I'd just grab my car keys and go.
It's not that simple anymore. Driving is necessary for survival. It's back there, it's coming. Driving is the only real task I can focus on because if I don't give it the attention it requires then we are doomed to whatever fate has befallen the entire west coast. The 'new car scent' has wore off of our impromptu relationship and now we have to get down to business. Survival.
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From across the western mountains and down to the Pacific coast a black presence seeks out it's prey. Straining to see through the clouds that reflect the sunlight back into it's formless shape it finally pinpoints the white Jeep making haste eastward. From here, hundreds of miles away, it could strike with deadly accuracy in a matter of moments, but what would be the fun in that?
Let them see what they need to see. It'll make the pain that much more savory when the time comes to snuff out their lives, it thinks. There's no going back now.
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