Thursday, January 10, 2013

John Roberts - Glass Eights

edit c:/glass8s.txt

With every bump in the road, you find yourself more unsure of just where you are headed. This new world was something different. Something off. Not having anywhere to live is the least of your concerns at the moment. The differences between past lives seems meaningless now. The idea of being a drifter doesn't scare you. What does scare you is what you may come across.

Another, particularly large bump in the road causes you to hit your hit on the passenger-side window. The mechanical driver gives you what you interpret a sheepish look as it presses on the gas to go faster. The city approaches ever the more steadily. Night falls upon the wasteland.

You pass a checkpoint just outside the city. Having been cooped up in this oddly shaped vehicle, you relish the thought of stretching your legs. You wonder what you could spend the night doing. And then you hear it. The rhythmic thuds of distant music.

Getting out of the vehicle and thanking the machine for the lift, you make your way on foot to the source of the music. Cracked pavement and dark alleys become the normal sight on your trek. The source becomes more present, the music more defined. You realize it's club of sorts.

Down the stairs and past a set of double doors, you've found your way towards the club. Flashing lights and loud, thumping bass provide comfort you never considered a room full of people would give you. Then it hits you. There seem to be no people. Only machines. The driver wasn't a coincidence. The clash of metal on metal surrounds you. Bodies shimmer and gyrate under the glow of halogen flickers. Rattles form from the unoiled hinges of the machines.

Pain. The lights fade from your vision.

Calories: 385.5
Distance: 3.33mi

No comments:

Post a Comment