Highway Part 3

Highway Chapter 3

            I don’t remember much about my life before I joined the path. I don’t remember my name, my life, my identity. I just have glimpses, shattered memories. A shard will occasionally come to the surface, and I will regain a small piece of my past. And personally, I don’t want it back. I don’t need anything more than the life I have now. I can see faces of people, but without expression. Only a blank stare is around every corner. I remember the broken glass, the flashing lights. I remember the pain, and the sorrow. It hurt me for a long time. And I can remember the anger. An anger so potent, it was all that I thought about. My soul was consumed in darkness, slowly being eaten alive from the inside out. I remember the sensation of falling, over and over again in what felt like an inescapable cycle. I might not remember all that had happened, but I was not a good person. I didn’t know the truth. I was shunned away from society, or perhaps I left for my own reasons. I remember being on the trail for a long time, only moving to keep myself alive. The journey was only for food, shelter, and water. I didn’t stop to take the time to truly see. And this was my error. Some force had given me the chance to be a part of the world, and I was marginalizing it. It took me much longer than intended for me to finally find my way. But even so, I still found it, and that was all that really mattered.

I remember my awakening vividly, sitting on that grassy hill at night staring up at those stars. The moment was indescribable. It was amazing just how much the experience had changed me. Aside from seeing for the first time how the world is, the entire fabric of my existence had been altered. I had become shock absorbent, worries plagued me no longer, and I had become free. I was never angry anymore. It had been a big change from before, where it was controlling. I was no longer a puppet to my emotions. My patience had increased exponentially. I was, in many senses, a being with complete peace and a feeling of being whole. I didn’t question why I lived, for I could feel my decisions affecting the world around me, and how I played an important role, no matter how small. In truth, I was lucky, for I had become the messenger of this life which gave me rebirth. I had purpose. I walk along the side of my road, and watch the little dust clouds I create each time I step.

I am heading to a town by the name of Silverland. As it comes into view, I have to wonder if I will find another. Although my “job” is to help guide people to the truth, it is rare that I am able to successfully recruit another such as I. some people are content to live with their lives, and reject the idea of change. I like to believe that one day, just like me they will come to realize they need the change. And then there are others, ones who are ready to be shown the way, and yet they are not. I speak to them of course, and try to nudge them in the right direction, but it does not always come to pass. If they do not want to go, I cannot force them. The only way to see the truth is by your own willingness to change and your spiritual being up to the task of such a journey. In the approximate 5 years since my awakening, I had only found one other to the other side. I’ve had to watch many reject the call, and I feel sorrow for their loss. Alas, this is all part of the life I live, and it is worth every second.

As I enter the gates, I can immediately feel the people inside. The busy souls, the people hard at work. Although it is not the connection with another drifter, I can sense the outlines and shapes of their essence. A baby crying, some kids chatting, two women gossiping to each other. As mall town, but a flurry of activity. Preparing myself for what would come, I set an easy pace and continued on to the town. Hopefully I could find someone.

Highway Chapter 4

        I awoke to the soft rays of the sun lighting up the inside of my eyelids. Rubbing my eyes drowsily, I stretched. I pad into the living room of my humble abode turn on the television. “Nothing is on, like usual.” I think to myself. I flick lazily through the channels, attempting to find some form of entertainment. I give up on the effort.

I have this house because the mayor felt bad that my parents had died, and then later on he wanted me out of the way. He said I could have the one bedroom apartment on the edge of town for free as long as I didn’t break the law. I get cable because they fear my wrath if it was cut off.

I get dressed, picking an outfit I designed to stand out. I snickered as I think of the faces of the people today. The reaction was more entertaining than television.

I grab my iPod and turn to my favorite song, blasting it out of my headphones without a care. Pulling my hair into a ponytail and grabbing a granola bar for breakfast, I stroll out of the door. I commence the usual walk around the neighborhood, my head high with an expression of arrogance and disdain. I knew I was different then these people, and I was grateful. But even as I strut through the town, something seemed different. Everyone had gone, and the streets were barren. There was only the shop boy, Jimmy I think it was.

“Oi, idiot!,” I say, “Where the hell is everyone?”

He jumps, and reluctantly turns to me.

“I-I th-think they are w-watching the st-stranger by the g-gates.” He meekly replies, almost trembling.

I take off in that direction. Sure enough, there seems to be a crowd, although they are widespread and not concentrated. Nobody even notices my approach, a first in my life. “What is this all about?” I wonder to myself. The air has a strange feeling to it, one of confusion and fear. It’s as if the atmosphere has the texture of being heavy. A baby starts to cry, but is shushed by its mother. The silence among the people is almost palpable. They all seem to gravitate towards the building in front of them, our local bar. Strangers are rare, but they never cause a reaction like this.

I open the door to the bar and quietly step inside. The quiet is unnerving, and I am suddenly cautious. Everyone in here might as well be dead, for there are no signs of life. All bar conversation has stopped, and all eyes are on the stranger sitting at the bar. I couldn’t get a good look at him for he was in the shadows of the drink shelf, but it wasn’t necessary to see him to feel what it was that caused the quiet. Everything about the man seemed different. He had a foreign aura about him, as though he was a different species. There was a feeling in my stomach that I couldn’t quite name, and it fluttered every time my eyes looked to the figure. “What the hell was up with this guy?” I questioned myself. He appeared to be tranquil despite being able to feel what must have been 20 stares inside the bar.

Something about these peoples behavior made me angry. It irked me that they were just staring at the stranger in town, even though he had a strange influence. It reminded me of my younger years, the stares, the curiosity, and the unnatural quiet when I came around. Everyone who was the slightest bit different was suddenly an alien creature. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Why was I being so uncharacteristically muted and submissive? I would not be confused with these ordinary people, and I would not let them do this to another person.

I cleared my throat loudly. Nobody blinked an eye, but then the stranger turned, and my breath caught in my throat. Finally clear from the shadows, I could now see his features. Cropped brown hair lay atop his head, filled with natural blonde highlights. He had light stubble spread across his lower jaw, interrupting the smooth texture of his skin. Almost a golden brown, it glowed radiantly in the sunlight. His bone structure wasn’t sharp, only rough, as if he spent days outside. And his eyes were so absolutely piercing, I could feel my soul as if I had taken it and cut it into pieces of cloth for use in my wardrobe. Blue, but dark, as if his pupils had decided to fade into them. They reflected so many things I had never seen before, and I wondered to myself what it would feel like to delve into those and just submerge yourself into the depths. He was, by many standards, handsome. He looked to be about 25, although I couldn’t be sure.

His eyebrows seemed to half rise at me, as if I had suddenly become intriguing. Realizing that since he was looking at me, so was everyone else, I mentally shook myself out of it. Tearing my eyes away from him I felt that anger return.

“Hey, you lazy asses!” I barked out, “What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you have anything better to do than sit on your butts all day? Jobs to get to? People’s lives to ruin? Get out of here!”

I tried to look menacing, and took a step towards the nearest table. There were murmurs from around the room and people started to get up and leave. I had caused a stir in the silence, and broken the strange magic that had enveloped the town. The stranger was still looking at me, but I pretended not to notice. Unsure of what to do now that the bar crowd had mostly cleared out and was diminishing by the second, I turned to leave.

“Wait. Can I talk to you? I just need a few minutes of your time, I promise.” He said in a mildly gruff but beautifully toned voice.

I was startled by the sudden question. I turned around to see him languidly walking over to me. With each step closer, that strange feeling in my stomach grew, until I realized that it was the same feeling I get when I visit the forests. That empty yearning feeling that I couldn’t comprehend. What connection did this man have with such a personal part of my life?

As he got closer, I realized just how big this man was. His figure was muscular, but not overly so. It was strong, but compact and concentrated. I only reached the top of his shoulder. He was wearing blue jeans, and a light jacket the color of jade with a white t-shirt underneath. His shoes were worn leather, and they were covered in dust. A person would have to walk on a trail for weeks to get shoes that dusty. Realizing he was waiting for an answer, my brain scrambled for a reason to avoid his request. Finding none, I just replied with a non committal shrug. He smiled, showing off a row of perfect teeth, and gestured to the bar.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

I followed, not quite sure what was about to happen. We sat down at the nearest table, alone in the empty bar except for the staff. He folded his hands in front of him, and directed his gaze to my eyes.

“Let me tell you about a little something I like to call the truth.”