The Vanishing Road

The Vanishing Road

On that particular day, the one thing I could truly understand and connect with was the intense desire to get behind the wheel, break free from the mundane tasks and responsibilities of everyday life, and seek solace and tranquillity on the expansive roads. I was entirely consumed by thoughts of escaping and enjoying the ability to breathe, free from the weight of expectations. Therefore, I decided to take a break from everything to seek clarity and solace for my mind and heart.

The tears streaming down my face formed a salty river that trickled onto my lips, a bitter reminder of the profound emotional anguish I was going through. Although I was consciously trying to keep my attention on the road ahead, I couldn't help but be aware of the dried blood that was etched beneath my nails as I wiped away the tears. A shudder ran through my body, causing me to recoil slightly. With more command than reassurance, I whispered, "Keep it together, Janey Hightower." I was not familiar with the concept of reassurance; Everything was just supposed to be okay.

 As I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, I noticed my knuckles gradually turning white due to the intense pressure exerted as I struggled to control my overwhelming emotions. Laughter pierced the air, startling me. I spun around to the back seat, instinctively searching for its source, only to realise it was my laughter echoing in the confines of the car.

As I drove, it felt like an eternity had passed since I last allowed myself to shift my focus away from my thoughts, but at last, I did and took in the surrounding scenery. The external world served as a mere backdrop to my internal battles, particularly my preoccupation with mortality and the ever-elusive concept of freedom. The car had transformed into a haven for me, protecting me from the overwhelming chaos surrounding me.

Taking a moment to crack the window open, I was greeted by the invigorating scent of the cool, acrid air. This instantly eased my anxiety and allowed me to breathe a sigh of relief. I was overwhelmed by a sense of liberation and a newfound freedom that had eluded me for years.

The rolling hills of Glencoe, extending as far as the eye could see, served as a humbling reminder of nature's grandeur, making my four-by-four vehicle seem utterly insignificant. The relentless echoes of piercing screams invaded my ears, violently yanking me away from the serenity of my thoughts and forcefully pushing me towards the secure refuge of my heavily fortified shelter. Filled with a sense of urgency, my mind delved deep into its intricate depths, desperately scouring every corner for even the faintest clue or recollection that could provide some semblance of understanding, all in a valiant attempt to unravel the origin of the petrifying screams reverberating through the atmosphere.

As I reached for the radio dial, a surge of determination washed over me, urging me to find solace in the familiar tunes of my favourite radio station. As I turned the volume up, a familiar rock tune flooded the once-silent car, drowning out the chaos of my thoughts. With reckless abandon, I sang along to the music, allowing my voice to intertwine with the melody until my lungs were exhausted. Overwhelmed by a surge of adrenaline, I forcefully pushed down on the accelerator, experiencing an exhilarating rush of power coursing through me as the speedometer rapidly climbed higher and higher.

Over the years, I have become intimately familiar with these paths, having traversed them since childhood. The details of every curve and bend have been etched deeply in my memory. Now that I am in my thirties, I have gained a profound knowledge of them, effortlessly manoeuvring through different experiences with ease and familiarity.

The path ahead of me was a rural, narrow, and twisting trail that meandered through the secluded countryside, a secret known solely to the well-versed residents of the area. The route, reserved exclusively for off-road vehicles, presented a challenging endeavour requiring resilience and skill. However, I anticipated the situation and made the necessary arrangements.

Several months ago, I obtained the reliable four-by-four vehicle, which I lovingly named "my trusty old faithful." Despite its age, this vehicle has repeatedly showcased its reliability, serving as a testament to its enduring strength and resilience. Before setting off on this adventure, I committed myself to mastering the controls, diligently familiarising myself with every intricate detail of its handling.

As we started our ascent into the clouds, the tyres exhibited a reassuring stability, tightly gripping the gravel road beneath us. It was impossible not to feel embraced by the lush patchwork of green hills that enveloped us, providing comfort and tranquillity. With every passing moment, our elevation increased, creating the illusion that we were steadily climbing towards the very gates of heaven.

While navigating the winding path, I experienced a profound sense of liberation that completely swept away my thoughts, allowing me to escape reality's overwhelming burdens. If people could no longer meddle, dictate, or stifle my every move, my life would be free from interference, control, and restrictions.

Once again, that goddamn awful scream resurfaced, cutting through the relative safety of the vehicle's interior, assaulting my ears with its piercing sound and causing my nerves to tremble. With a firm resolve, I pressed down forcefully on the accelerator, urging the vehicle to conquer the uphill climb, my desperation driven by the need to distance myself from the haunting sound that weighed heavily on my heart.

The overwhelming desire to break free from the suffocating grip of that never-ending scream consumed me as I yearned to release the heavy burden it had placed upon my exhausted soul. I reassured myself that I would soon find a moment of respite, a chance to wash away the haunting traces of blood that had marked my hands. Of course, it wasn't my blood involved in the situation. There was never any possibility of it ever belonging to me. However, the crimson reminder of violence and chaos continued to linger, constantly taunting me with its unwelcome presence.

As I adjusted the rearview mirror, my gaze drifted reluctantly over the hauntingly gaunt and ghastly apparition in the back seat. Despite no tangible scent, I couldn't resist the urge to cover my nose from the overwhelming foul smell of decay that permeated the atmosphere.

"I know you're not real! Leave me alone! You're not supposed to follow me here. I thought I got rid of you, don't you remember?" As I spoke to the ghostly figure lurking in the back seat, a mix of fear and frustration caused my voice to tremble, its echoes resonating emptily within the space of the four-by-four.

Once a refuge from the chaos of the outside world, the vehicle now felt overwhelmingly confining, suffocating me with its all-too-familiar walls that seemed to trap me.Overwhelmed by an unwavering intensity, I quivered as I swiftly threw the chiffon scarf that had adorned my neck over the mirror. With the spectral figure hidden from my gaze by the delicate fabric, a shiver of relief coursed through me, although I understood it was only a reprieve.

The road ahead appeared interminable, and with each passing mile marker, I neared my final destination, where I aimed to find closure and overcome my internal battles. I recollected the house, positioned just before the road vanished into obscurity, serving as a sanctuary amidst the impending gloom.

Hidden from prying eyes, that place would serve as a sanctuary for me, offering solace and tranquillity. My solitude would be preserved without any interference from others. The hope of recovery remained firmly rooted within me, intensifying with every passing second as I aimed to exorcise the monstrous spectre that had haunted my thoughts for far too long.

As hope swelled in my heart, I began to make out the faint outline of the old stone house emerging from the darkness ahead. I hadn't visited in such a long time, to be exact, since my childhood days. The memory flickered briefly, like a phantom, a fleeting moment we once shared, before slowly fading into the current state of reality. With a mixture of caution and curiosity, I directed my attention towards the back seat, my heart pounding in my chest, half expecting to come face-to-face with the very demon that had tormented me throughout my entire trip. To my immense relief, all that awaited me was a vast emptiness devoid of any remnants of its wickedness.

Instead, my eyes fell upon the ominous black bag, its contours unmistakably human-like, bound tightly with tape to conceal its contents. The shovel lay beside it, silently witnessing the daunting task ahead. With a deep sense of finality, I stopped and brought my trusty old companion to a halt. As I turned the ignition key, the engine fell silent, a gentle reminder that this journey had ended.

Despite the weariness that engulfed my limbs as I exited the car, I drew upon my determination to gather strength and continue forward. I approached the back door, my hand instinctively reaching for the shovel, a tool of liberation and closure. Facing the lifeless form wrapped in its cocoon of darkness, I whispered, "Time to bury my demons."

I couldn't help but smile and feel grateful for my metal companion, who had silently supported me throughout the challenging journey. I had been lost in life for so long, but on this journey, I found myself and knew who I was. No more need to hide from myself I could be truly free.