Silence

It was 3:37 in the morning, and the old car had a flat tire. He pulled over on the side of the road and popped the trunk, only to find some old cloths. Certainly nothing that resembled a tire. He is about 10 miles away from his house so he figured it would be time to walk.

The soles of his shoes help keep rhythm, as he walked, one step at a time, down the asphalt covered street. Head lights turn to tail lights,as single, lonely cars speed past him. The wind turns the once lethargic snow in a ball of energy. With each step, it seems the temperature drops. If it was up to him, he would rise the temperature as his own, but nature's mother has another idea.

The mixture of his hot breath and random tobacco products hit the air as they exit his lungs and mouth. His thoughts turn to walking down the middle of the street. He begins to walk on the middle, yellow line almost like a trapeze artist. This only entertains his frozen mind for only afew seconds as he begins to veer back toward the outside, white line. By this time, he has walked maybe 3 miles. A cop pulls up beside him.

"What are you doing night?"
Stupid question. Looks like I'm walking.
With a single annoyed breath he replies "Walking."
"Do you need a ride?"
"No, I have gone 3 miles, I can go another 7."

He watched the cop's tail lights disappear around the corner.

The silence of the night is fantastic. Its the only thing that is keeping him calm. The trees swaying back in forth in the wind. Leaves Russelling in the wind. For the most part, Silence. no chaos. No loud annoying sounds. Just the quiet, cold, windy night keeps him company.

After what seems like hours, he stands at the end of his drive way. He stares at his small shack of a house. He sighs and slowly walks up the drive.
He removes his keys from his front, left pocket and unlocks his front door. He enters and is hit with a wall of frozen air. he shuts the door and locks it back.

Its almost colder inside his house than outside in the winter waste land that he just exited. He plops down on the couch and grabs the remote control. Without thinking, his thumb clicks the big red ON button and to his surprise, the TV remains black. He laughs at himself, while mumbling "No power, no tv. " He drops the remote on the ground and with a smile, he zips up his jacket and slowly falls asleep.

   Silence. no chaos. No loud annoying sounds. Just the quiet, cold, windy night keeps him company.

(L.R. Ch 8) Monsoon

Skid marks lead Left to her upside down car. He hurries to park and hops out of his car. As he runs toward the mangled vehicle, he hears the cop yelling at him to stop but he doesn't care. Police are the least of his worries now.

As he gets closer to the car, rain drops turn to tears.
"Nooo,Noo,No", he says out loud as he sees the motionless body sitting in the driver seat. As he walks up to the driver side window, he bends down and knocks on the the glass, just like he did in the past.

 With a cracked, emotion filled voice, he asks, once again, "Are you ok? Can I open your door?"

With no reply, he opens the door.
"I'm sorry", Left's cop friend says. Left says the same to Amber.

He picks her up and lays her on the cold, wet asphalt. Now, just like she did on the phone, Left loses control of his emotions. He notices the odd ink mark on the back of her arm again. Of course it wasn't an ink mark at all. She had bruises all over her body. Hand marks from where someone was grabbing her. Marks and bruises that should never be on her. Her face, already black and blue from the punch that was delivered to her earlier. Her face, that in Lefts mind should always be smiling, now emotionless and battered. A mixture of anger and sadness hit him all at once. A type of feeling that is demoralizing. debilitating. The feeling of failure enters his thoughts. He didn't do enough, he thinks. How does this kind of thing happen to someone as nice as her. Someone as Right as her.

The ambulance finally shows up. The EMT  R.I.P her away from his grasp. Her hand finally slipping away from his.

The Gas Station Attendant is Left again but this time is different, this time his heart breaks, his soul cracks and his spirit is shot down. He unlocks the gas station, and without turning on the lights, he grabs a bottle. As he drinks, he watches the tow truck clean the wreck up. Left doesn't cry much. Neither do the clouds these days. But tonight, a monsoon will remain stationary at the gas station.

Now he is Left; Alone.

(L.R. CH7)

"...hee..hello." She answered the phone with a bit of a mumble.
"Where are you going." Left replies.
"I don't know." said in a whispering tone.
"He won't hurt you anymore."
A few seconds pass and she begins to cry uncontrollably. It had finally built up so much that she just couldn't keep it inside anymore.
In between sobs, Left hears a "thank you" from the other end of the phone.
"Why did you hit him?" she asks.
"Because he hit you." Left answers. He could almost see her smile through the phone.
Sniffle. "Your a good guy. You've only been good to me."
He replies quickly, "Yea, we come in last, but always win."
Her sobs evolve to a slight laugh as they both continue driving.
"Stop at the gas station, ok. I want to see you."
"Ok, I'm almost there." she replies. By Left's calculations, she had to be speeding because he was still at least 20 minutes away from the destination.

A loud crashing sound goes off into Left's ear, followed by static. He looks at his phone and it says call ended.

Why did the phone cut off? She’s playing with me. Nothing is wrong. I’ll just call her back. As he frantically pushes the numbered buttons on his phone, Left was trying to figure out what the sound could have been at the end of the call. In his mind, he knows what it was, but he refuses to accept it.  He hits the green send button and as he waits for the call to be connected, his nerves and fear start to take over as he begins to tap his fingers on the steering wheel. Her phone picks up, but it is her Voicemail. As he runs a stop sign, he throws the cell phone into the driver seat. The only thing that is going, over and over, through his head is the simple yet devastating, last word he heard while the phone was to his ear. Unavailable.

He slams his Right foot into the gas petal, and speeds toward the old gas station where the two first met. 
The sound that he heard starts haunting him as he gains speed. He passes a cop while doing 80 in a 45. Blue lights now illuminate his rear view mirror but he presses on as if brakes haven't been invented yet.
He blows through stop signs on the lonely road. The police car following his every turn as it begins to rain, on the dark gloomy night.

He takes his last turn and begins to go up the hill before the gas station. He hopes that she is waiting for him in the parking lot. He hopes that his phone just lost service. He hopes.

As he tops the hill, her car becomes visible, but it isn't in the parking lot, waiting patiently....

(L.R. CH6)

Its 2am and a fresh pitcher of beer with four chilled, fogged up glasses are placed on the table in front of Left. Its his 27th birthday and he's spending it with a couple of his friends at the hole in the wall bar, "The Library." It has already been a extensive night filled with multiple mix drinks, many different kinds of beer, and enough shots to put even a seasoned alcoholic into a coma.

Laughter fills the air as the odd combination of the four reminisce about the old days. Slurred speech and curse words are emitted from their mouths as they all par take in a mumbled toast, and proceed to engulf the 12 ounces of beer that once filled their glasses. As they finish, the wife of the cowboy hat wearing friend returns from making a phone call outside. She leaps into her seat and continues to order a toddy that has an extended name that none of the other four can understand in their drunken state.

They all joke for awhile but after some time passes, the conversations die down and it is obvious that the night is coming to a end. They all pay their tabs and begin to walk toward the exit of the small bar. Left is the first to walk out of the front door. As he takes a right, in order to head in the direction of the parking lot, he hears screaming, the type of screaming that involves arguing. As he looks up and puts his cold hands in his jacket pocket, he sees where the commotion is coming from.

Across the street, Amber and her low life boy...friend are the ones that are causing all the noise. At first glance, Left thinks nothing of it. He figures if she wants to be with someone like him, she can just deal with it. As the group of five stop at a cross walk on the opposite side of the arguing couple, Left can't help but observe the argument. Being nosy, he finds out that Amber caught him with yet another girl and this time she didn't just walk away. She apparently threw a drink on the cheater and ran outside to get in her car, but was stopped before she could make it.

Just as the illuminated hand appears and the crew begins to walk toward the opposite side of the street, Left sees the hand of the low life rare back and ball up into a fist, continuing to meet its conclusion upon Amber's right cheek.

Without a second of hesitation, the intoxicated Left runs out in the middle of the street. A car slams on its brakes and the loud horn follows as he runs across to completely obliterate this undeserving of life, asshole.

He slows his walk a bit and yells
 "Hey, What do you think you're doing!?!" Amber now lays on the ground.
The boyfriend turns around and replies, "Who the fuck are you?"

Left, without answering the useless question, walks Right up, and lands a solid punch onto the nose of the drunk. He then jumps on top of him and continues to build thunder storms as he rains punches down upon the once unbroken nose of the now ex boyfriend. By now, there is a crowd around them, and it is steadily getting louder. What seems like an eternity, really has only been 15 seconds. One of Left's friends that wears a polo hat trys to pull Left of off him but of course that doesn't work.

"COPS, COPS, COPS." This statement projected from across the street.
Everyone begins to scatter like roaches when an over head light is turned on. In the borderline uncontrollable scene, Left is looking around for Amber. He turns to find her already in her car and driving away. She swerves a bit, and almost hits someone running across the street.

Left runs to his car. starts it, and drives off toward the direction of the girl that always gets away. He fumbles with his cell phone as he tries to call her. She answers...

(L.R. CH5)

"That will be $4.77."
Left receives the twenty dollar bill, counts out proper change, grabs a box of cigarettes and hands both to the customer.
"Have a nice day."

As the paying customer leaves, Amber walks in...with her should be ex boyfriend sitting in the driver seat of the car, waiting for her. Left thought that Amber was strong enough to leave the asshole in the past but from the look of things, his thoughts were wrong. She strolls up to the counter and noticed the slight look of disapproval Left has on his face.

"Why" Left asks.
"Why what"
"Why are you back with him?"
"He is just so sweet. He got me flowers and made dinner...."

Left can tell by the way she was talking that she doesn't believe, not for one second, what she is saying.

After a few seconds of silence pass, Left replies "So whatever he does, he can just wine and dine and everything is ok. You just forgive him. Whatever he does? I thought that was left up to God to do that? You know, ask for forgiveness, and you are forgiven." Left says this in a genuine, calm and caring tone, he thinks, but from her reaction, he notices that it came out the wrong way.

She gets the wrong impression, thinking that he is like every other guy. Trying to get the boyfriend out of the picture so he can step right in. She puts a snarl on her face and says "How about you put $15 on pump 2."

She raises her purse, pulls out her wallet, and hands a ten and five ones to Left. Not being able to hold his tongue, which is the main reason why Left doesn't get along with most people, he asks "What, he can't even pay for his own gas."

"No, he just can't find a job." She replies.
"What? There are plenty of jobs open down at the mall. Why doesn't he try to work there?"
"He says that he doesn't want to work with low lifes."
"Well my definition of a low life is someone that can't buy his own gas." Left, uncontrollable, says.

Amber opens her mouth to say something, but chooses not to say a word. She puts her wallet back into her purse and begins to walk back out to the cold weather, with her head down almost looking defeated. The further she gets away, for some reason, the more it catches his eye. On the back of her arm, there is a big blob of ink. An unsual place for ink, he thinks for a split second.

Never the less, as she heads to the gas pump, Left hopes that she knows everything he said was Right. Hopes that she understands that the guy that would drive her away from the gas station wouldn't be the one. He wasn't trying to offend, but rather tell her what everyone else didn't have to guts to say. Although brutal, what he said, in his mind, was the truth.

She steps up to the gas pump and to Left's surprise, not only can her boyfriend not pay for gas, he can't pump it either.  All Left can do is shake his head in disbelief. Brain washed are the only words that come to his mind. She obviously doesn't know how she should be treated. She looks up in embarrassment toward the window front of the gas station, then quickly replaces the gas cap, and jumps in the car.

There is no way she loves him. No way. Why is she still with him? Why? Left thinks as he watches the car drive away, leaving him alone. Just like some many times in the past.
  

DEC24, so close yet So Far away.

As darkness engulfs the valley, his car roars down the flat, completely straight road toward the small log cabin. The muscle car's engine drowns out the silence of the cold, motionless Christmas Eve night. The snow, which had been falling all day, had subsided hours earlier.The full moon, which is so bright, almost makes the head lights on his car obsolete. The light from the moon reflecting off of the white layers of snow, snow that seemed to have a permanent residence on the mountains that were on either side of him, almost guide the car toward his destination. The sounds of the old car get louder as he stomps the gas pedal, in order to show up on time.He promised that he would be there on Christmas Eve, and he would be.

Just as the long drive starts to become tedious, the road begins to take him up a small embankment, which has a stop sign at its peak. The car slows down to a complete stop at the law enforcing sign, and for a moment, doesn't move. From this perch, he can see the longed for cabin a mile away.

This image, this holiday, summaries what brings him joy and pure, unadulterated happiness. As he drives toward the cabin, he imagines his young kids falling fast asleep in order to prepare for the bearded present deliverer. He can almost see his wife staying up and reading a novel, waiting patiently for his arrive. These thoughts make him speed in order to get to the cabin, because, he truly cannot wait to see her. he can't wait to put the presents under the tree. The closer he gets, the better he can see the lighted evergreen tree in the living room with the fire place, full of wood and flames, raging in the background. This sight makes him feel warm inside, just as the fire, and without him knowing it, plasters a kid-like smile on his face.

All of a sudden, his front left tire hits a sizable nail and explodes. He tries his best to control the wide body of a car while on slick roads but he simply was going too fast. The car begins to flip as he hangs onto the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from the intense grip. The car flips four and a half times and comes to rest upside down. The smell of gas reeks in the freezing cold, late December air. He tries to lift himself but he finds out, rather quickly, that both of his arms are broken. His shirt is now getting super saturated with gasoline and he know he probably only has a little bit of time. He looks up at the cabin window in desperation and feels like he is just feet away but actually, him and his car are more than a football field in length from the cottage. He stares at his wife, but she has no idea about the situation. If he yells, he might get her attention, but that gives the possibility that she might run out too late and have front row seats for his fiery death. He knows he can't let that happen. He would rather her remember him as she does now, not as a piece of charred meat.

Now, instead of darkness, flames engulf the valley. Although the pain is intense, he clenches his teeth and never screams. His eyes, never taken off of the fogged up window of the cabin. His last view of everything that he loves, melts away as the wind begins to blow away ashes.    

     

(L.R. CH4 Part 2)

As she gets close enough to the all glass front door, Left finds out why she was hiding behind tissues. It was transparently clear that she was upset. When she walks into the station, her attitude doesn't change but her drunken stumbles slowly disappear in order to appear sober.

In a chocked up tone of voice, she says "Hey Left." ,while simultaneously making a B-line to the lack luster wine section to see what the gas station has to offer.

"Hey Right.", Left says. The reply places a smirk on her face, just for a split second, then reverting back to the previous frown.

Without applying much time in picking which kind of wine, she closes her eyes, randomly picks a bottle and starts to make her way to the front counter. As she puts the big bottle of wine on the counter, Left, almost on impulse, asks "Whats Wrong".

She hands him correct change, grabs her bottle and says "....nothing" followed by a slight sniffle.

 She immediately walks out of the store without any thought of entertaining the conversation. Left pays it no mind because he is ready to get out of this hell hole and head to the place that Amber had left on this Friday night, the Bars. He quickly closes out the cash register, walks around and turns off all the lights and last but not least, arms the security system before he departs. He locks the door and as he turns to migrate to warmer weather, which would be his car, he notices the black Honda and Amber, still sitting there. Left stops and takes a deep breath as snow begins to collect on his shoulders. He exhales and decides that he should talk to her, at least to see it she needs a ride home.

He knocks on her passenger side window and asks "Are you ok? Can I open your car door?" Amber stares at him for a minute, because she finds him squirming in the cool weather to be comical. He raises his head in order to restate his question but without words.  She stretches across the passenger seat and unlocks the door. As Left takes a seat, snow follows him into the car.

Its just as cold in the car as it is outside it. For some reason, she doesn't have the car on, much less, heat. She tips the bottle up and takes a long drag from the red fluid that is within it. The silence is deafening. All you can hear is the sound of wind as it brushs up against the exterior of the car.

"...I saw him with another girl at the bar. He was all over her. Like I didn't even exist."

Left pulls out his flask and takes a sip of his own beverage. He glances outside at the winter wonderland while he gathers his thoughts.

"I confronted them both, and all he did was laugh at me. Right before I walked out the door, I looked back and and they were right back to what they were doing, like I didn't even say a word." Followed by another extended sip of wine.

"So everything he did was wrong, right?" Left asks. The answer, given with a confident nod by her.
"Then whats the big deal? Obviously you were wasting your time with him. Obviously he doesn't love you as much as you love him, so why beat yourself up over something you just cannot control."

She replies "its just....." and Left blurts out, "Dumb". He continues, "Its dumb. Don't let him ruin your night. Its 11 o'clock. What are you doing for the rest of the night, drinking in a cold car at a gas station, alone?"

It takes her a extra second to respond because she didn't think that Left would be so up front with her about his thoughts. Left can tell by her facial expression that she completely agrees with everything he said except for the last sentence that involved this parking lot and drinking alone.

"Let me buy you a drink. I'm driving." Left says, as he gets out of her car. Amber watches him as he walks, bundled up in his jacket, toward his own car. She takes another sip of her wine and puts the cork back into the bottle.

As Left warms up his car, while listening to the radio, the door opens and she hops in the front seat. She puts on her smile and of course her seat belt as she says "Drive safely, please."

Left laughs and says "No problem. Are you driving?"

She gives him the evil eye as he navigates through the snow. After a right turn, Left takes a galnce at her. She is looking out the window again, just like she did when she drove off with her boyfriend a week earlier. Only this time, there is a difference. In the reflection of the window, all Left can see is her smile.....

(L.R. CH4 Part 1)

A week passes, but the cold front doesn't. It's colder than ice cubes in Antarctica tonight at the station. With light, unexpected snow falling, the only car present in the parking lot is Left's. It is Friday night and about ten minutes before he has to start closing up shop. The thought that has been running laps in his head since the day he was hired, seemed to be back for another track meet. How do they afford to pay me. No one had been in the store in the past two hours. By this time, Left is starting to go Stir Crazy, just like Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder in the early 80s.

While Left contemplates leaving early, headlights begin to peek through the sparkling clean store front window. Of course someone would come in Right before I leave, Left says out loud to the always listening but never talking fountain drink machine.Hey, you've got to talk to something when no one is around, only logical, he thinks.

After, what seems like an extended waiting time for the person to enter the store, Left gets curious and looks out at the newly arrived car. He doesn't recognize the small black Honda, nor the driver, at least at first sight. All he can see is what looks like paper towels or tissues covering the face of the occupant. He catches a glimpse of eyes and long hair, and now the obvious embarrassed Amber slowly gets out of the car. As she stumbles toward the gas station like an old sea captain, and her head almost staring a hole into the ground, Left figures she might of had one two many drinks at the bars that are about twenty minutes away. This small pit stop would probably include something to eat and a bit of mumbled speech, or so the phlegmatic gas station attendant hoped.

(L.R. Ch3)

The color scheme of the small convenience store was filled with old and new contrast. The walls, so bright, looked like they had been painted with white out. On the other hand, the counter that upholds the old fashion cash register looked like it had been hit with a sander multiple times. Scratches and small incisions were buried in the old, red hardwood surface, adding character to the established table top. Other than those minor aspects, the gas station looked like any other. Nice, freshly mopped floors with the assortment of fountain drinks towards the back of the store. The candy, chip and automotive fluid aisles, respectfully, where they needed to be.
When she walked in, Left was stocking a few shelves.
"I'll be right with you."

Amber, with her sense of humor, replies
"Wow, you would really change your name just for me!? How sweet."

Left, quick witted, figures the word play out and says
"I don't know about that. As far as I know, your name is car wreck. By the way, what is your name?"

While looking at a magizine, not him, she states, "Amber, Amber wRight...why is your name Left?"

Left talks about his name in a short-handed type way.
"High School. Friends went to out of state colleges. My uncle named me Left." You can tell that he gets that question constantly.

As she tries on sunglasses, and smiling in the mini mirror, she replies "Ok, that makes sense, a nick name."

Left is intrigued by her. How she walks aimlessly through the small store. How she walks and carries herself seems to state that even though the wreck took her car, she wasn't going to let it take her happiness. Before he even realized it, her apparent boyfriend had already pulled into the parking lot and walked in the store. The man, wearing khakis, boat shoes, and a long sleeve polo button up, takes one step in the store and stops.
"Let's go Amber." He says it in a demeaning way. Almost like an order. As fast as he arrived, was basically how fast he left, quickly walking back to his car.

As she nonchalantly strolls to the front door, she turns around, and with a gleaming smile,
"Maybe next time I see you, I wont look a mess."

All left can reply with is "But you don't look as mess."
Some how, her smile grows even bigger, and then she turns and walks out the door.

As she begins to get in her boyfriend's car, Left notices that both of them are arguing. He sees her boyfriend yelling and throwing his hands up dramatically. More importantly, he notices Amber. Left can tell by the look in her eyes, as she looks out the car window, without emotion, that she is not happy. That she doesn't feel loved. That she is with someone that she shouldn't be. Body language, that  when she was in the gas station, was bubbly, curious and energetic, now slowly faded to sad, unfascinated, borderline depression. Her smile, which was just seconds ago, beaming with uncontrollable happiness, now is overtaken by the unstoppable feeling of unsatisfaction.

Although they just met, all Left can think about is her. All he can think about is making her smile, again. Love, which lived permanently within his heart, now filled his mind, his thoughts, and his words. All he can think about is her.....

(Right)CH2

As Amber wRight's alarm clock begins to create uncontrolled chaos, she rolls out of bed and lands on her back. She stares at her popcorn style, brilliant white, ceiling with the simple idea that she definitely needed more sleep than she received.


After some self-motivation, she slowly stands up and heads to her bathroom. As she was horizontal on the floor, in what she calls a meditative state, she decided to bum it today and just put on a sweat suit. She ties her hair in a semi pony tail, throws on some running shoes, and darts out the door.


Driving isn't exactly her strong suit. She multi-tasks on way too many occasions. People constantly joke with her about her driving, but it never bothers her, because she knows the jokes are justified. Today, she decides that light pink colored lip gloss will be applied while driving. She glances one second in the rear view mirror and another at the road. While she tries to juggle these activities, she doesn't notice that the truck in front of her is slowing down and attempting to turn Left into the gas station. Without hesitation, the energy from the wreck is transferred through out her car, completely destroying her hood and bumper.
She stays in the car for a while, trying to collect her thoughts, because this wreck was not like the others that she was involved in. All the others were mostly scraps and finder binders.


Suddenly, someone knocks on her window, which startles her back to reality.


"Are you ok!? Can I open your car door?"


She nods, and when the door opens, all she can smell is smoke from the recent car accident. The fellow that opened the car, she noticed, was looking at her with a very interesting look. One second, it seemed as if he was worried about her, and the next it was almost like he was, in a way, laughing at her.


"WHY are you looking at me like that!?" she asks, with a slight crackle in her voice from not fully recovering from the wreck.
With a chuckle or two and a smile, he responses "Go to the bathroom and look at your face."


As she storms off to the restroom, the guy that she hit and the flannel wearing gas attendant push her car into the gas station's parking lot so the soon arriving police could write out the report. Left heads inside, because he has a unusual dislike of cops and anything and everything that resembles one.


Amber gets to the bathroom and as she looks into the mirror, she begins to laugh. She has the pink lip gloss all over her face. She quickly cleans the marks off, and heads back out to the parking lot to sign the police report. As she walks through the gas station, she notices his name tag, "Left". She now wonders what kind of a parent would name there child, "Left". A horrible name, she thinks. As she walks out the door, they both smile at each other because of the war paint that was previously on her face.


Amber quickly signs the police report, and because her car is completely undriveable, not to mention the combination of the 31 degree January weather and gusts of wind, she heads back into the small gas station to wait for a ride.


"Left"....a horrible name..



    

(Left)CH1

Its 6:55am in late January. While driving a bit fast, Left pulls up to the gas station. He hops out of the car, and to his surprise, a cop car pulls in after him with his blue lights flashing and sirens blaring. "Left, come here."


As he walks toward the police car, you can immediately tell that his 6'2, 26 year old body has seen hard work. He walks as if there is pain associated with every step. His jeans have paint marks on them, and his flannel jacket that warms him is faded from over exposure to rain and sunny light. His facial expression, at first glance, seems a bit on the aggravated, angry side but that slowly disappears as he gets closer to the police car.


The cop is one of Left's friends from back in high school. He proceeds to tell Left that he needs to slow down because next time he is going to have to write him a ticket. Left agrees that he will slow down but he just says this so the cop would just leave.


Left turns around and starts to walk back toward the gas station, with his keys in hand. He unlocks the old, worn out door and opens the store just like any other day. He turns on the lights and  open sign, then he makes sure the register is working properly. All of this takes maybe five minutes,and since he is picking up extra hours because the owner is out of town, he now gets to stand behind the red counter for the rest of the day.


His job can sometimes be uneventful  but the great aspect of working at a gas station is that you never know when,or better yet, who, will come in through the door..

(LeftRight)

Intro-Why did the phone cut off? She’s playing with me. Nothing is wrong. I’ll just call her back. As he frantically pushed the numbered buttons on his phone, Left was trying to figure out what the sound could have been at the end of the call. In his mind, he knows what it was, but he refuses to accept it.  He hits the green send button and as he waits for the call to be connected, his nerves and fear start to take over as he begins to tap his fingers on the steering wheel. Her phone picks up, but it is her Voicemail. As he runs a stop sign, he throws the cell phone into the driver seat. The only thing that is going, over and over, through his head is the simple yet devastating, last word he heard while the phone was to his ear. Unavailable.

Legacy of Silence

Will we ever escape the formalities of reality? Or better yet, will we ever enter the informal transition to fantasy? Creativity. Can we always live life with utmost curiosity? Can life truly ever become unstimulating, uninspiring? In a sense, we all are innocent of innocence. Why feel guilty, because if innocence we're clean then why would you want to feel filthy? Sure, it would be easy to Give up; not why, but why not go for the Take down? Why not go for the things in life that you feel are most important, yesterday. Love, Enlightenment, Money. Finding what is honestly real in life and leaving fakeness on the side of the road screaming for you to take her back. Instead, you hit the gas, pass the ones that are in the way of your dreams, grasp the happiness that you constantly purse, whatever that may be, then maybe you wont have to tell yourself that satisfaction is long overdue.