Lost and Found

      Unpaved, dirt roads grew legs in four different directions as if they were trying to run from one another. Waves of untrimmed, wild grass roamed the boarders of the roads with little patches of purple-yellow flowers that contained the strength to push on. The beating sun faded a sign that stood alone with the white letters spelling out; "Santa Rosa, population, 16,531." Crackling, mechanical sound of tires approaching from afar disturbed the natives of the land. Dust settled from the mechanical creature that ran by in a squeamish to reveal a lone figure shrouded in a cloak of confusion.

With the car riding into the distance, life at the crossroads returned to the way it had been. The mysterious figure had crawled from the ocean of green. Battered and ripped clothing draped the slender frame of a young girl. Blood stained various places on her arms and legs, leading anyone to believe that she had been through something traumatic. Small slender fingers clasped a folder leather wallet that contained any clue of who stood at the crossroads. Her pale green eyes filled with a sadness that she could no longer remember with an expression that only a blank sheet of paper could mock.

With the leather wallet in hand she decided to head in the direction that the sign pointed to. She tried to remember how she had gotten to the crossroads and who she was. Fragments of past experiences were revealing themselves. Like her tenth birthday and her first trip to Disneyland. Anything other than her childhood was a mist of questions. With the burning sun on top of her, she stopped for a moment to rest under a newly leafed tree. She sat down and traced her finger along a mark on the leather wallet. Out of curiosity, she opened the wallet looking for answers. Inside the worn out and faded wallet was a five dollar bill and an ID that had a name that seemed familiar but strange to her. With more questions than answers, she got back up and walked down the road, hoping that a town was near.

After hours of walking though the Californian Sahara, she finally came to the entrance of what she believed to be Santa Rosa. Pale colored houses lined the streets for miles with vibrant colored trees alongside them. She saw a sign that read; "rooms available." The house that had the available rooms was a three story house with who knows how many rooms. She walked though the tall, glass paned doors in a daze. The beauty of just the first room was unparallel to anything she could remember. Two stairways came down from the second floor; they were laced in blood oak and mahogany. Patterns were carved into the pillars that supported the rails that were so detailed that they could only be seen up close.

In a dream like state, she stared at the beauty of the wood work along with the details of the paintings. She stood in the middle of the front room making little turns, trying to absorb all of the details without missing a single brush stroke. Suddenly a door flew open from behind the front desk. The girl looked at the busy mid-thirties woman that had come through the hidden door behind the desk, her eyes gave her age away, they were slalom and just. The woman held an old leather bound book that looked to be from the renaissance age; she set the book on the desk and opened it up quickly to about the hundredth page. She ran her finger down a list of name, dates, and room numbers until she came to a blank space on the old faded page without looking up at the girl once. Then for the first time, the woman looked up at the girl. A look of horror and shock swept across the woman's face just as fast as death's touch kills any unlucky victim. The woman slammed the book closed with a sudden force and glared at the girl in disgust.

"We don't rent rooms to murders," said the motel owner in a stale, almost sour tone.

"Me," questioned the girl sharply, "what are you talking about, who's been murdered, what's going on?"

"Get out before I call the cops on you," demanded the woman, "you ask a lot of questions that you should know the answers to." The woman finished talking and reached under her desk to grab something. A loud snap came from under the desk and the sound of a gun being loaded was the last thing that came from the woman.

"Alright, it's fine. I'm leaving," said the girl while backing out of the building.

The girl walked back down to the sidewalk with tears swelling in her eyes. She left the motel behind her with an endless sidewalk ahead of her. The woman's voice echoed throughout the girls mind like a poison invading someone's blood. "Murder," echoed uncontrollably. "Why is this happening, what's going on, who am I," thought the girl desperate for answers. She cuffed her ears in a desperate attempt to end the questions and accusations but something can't be stopped from the outside that invaded the inside.

After walking past mom and pop stores, country clubs with golfers hunting gophers, and gates communities that could be separate countries for the elite class, she came to the last street of houses in town. Houses of many shapes and sizes stood close together with perfect complexions. Lawns created islands of green against the blackness of the asphalt. Smells of freshly cut grass and perfectly grilled steaks filled the street in an almost familiar scent. She wanted to stay there, living in one of these perfect homes with a happy family.

"Hey," shouted someone from behind her, breaking her train of thought.

Without a second thought, she darted down the street. Sweat beaded down her face from fear and the torturous heat. The sound of running shoes hitting the sidewalk filled her ears. Suddenly, without warning, the earth beneath her feet dropped from under her. Everything shifted and turned. Time slowed and life stood still as she descended. The hot sidewalk broke her fall and her arms kept her from body slamming the concrete. Footsteps rushed closer and slowed to a stop beside her. Her heart raced and fear took over. Tears poured from her redden face. Trying to escape the fear of the label; murder, she began to crawl along the sidewalk, using the cracks to pull herself onward. A light hand gently touched her shoulder, which caused her to jerk away and roll off the sidewalk, straight into the street. Passing cars shook the asphalt violently. Reaching for the curb desperately, a hand grabbed hers and pulled her to the safety of the sidewalk. The screeching sounds of cars startled her and caused her to have a major panic attack. Then the world went dark and she gave into the fear.

She opened her eyes to discover that she was sitting shotgun in a speeding car. She tried to open her door but it passed through her like water through a sieve. Something wasn't right about the car or any of the passing objects. Everything was extremely familiar like living through déjà vou. Suddenly, the speed began to increase and everything was turning into blurs. She turned and looked at the driver hoping that the driver would see her, but she discovered the driver was her.

"Is this me," she thought to herself, "is this a dream, maybe even a memory?"

More and more questions flooded the girls head as the car speed faster down the gravel road. She shouted at the driver to slow down but no matter how loud she cried out the car would not slow down. Suddenly, something began to make a loud annoying ringing sound that caused the driver to pick up a small grey flip phone. The driver looked at the phone and aggressively threw it at the car's window, which caused the whole window to shatter. All visibility was all but lost. Only the sound of rushing air was heard. The car increased speed and kept heading down the road. Every rock that passed under the car created more and more spider web cracks in the windshield.

"I remember this," mumbled the girl, "oh no, look out!"

Suddenly the driver slammed on the brakes, propelling the contents of the car forward and the windshield shattered into millions of pieces that sliced everything in the vehicle. The car began to spin out of control then began to roll down the road. Everything turned dark and the ear shattering sound of sliding cars came to a sudden stop. Out from the darkness came the loud high pitched scream of several people. Then absolute darkness, unsettling silence, and pure pain surrounded her.

"What's happening, where am I, oh god," She said in a panic, "I fainted, I remember that." She began to panic again; more and more questions flooded her mind. She wanted to know what was going on around her but the memory of the motel owner petrified her. Being called a murderer for something that might have been an accident was a cruel punishment.

"I don't want to be that person anymore, that person isn't me," she thought to herself.

An unfamiliar voice began to speak through the darkness. The words were scrambled and muffled. In the darkness a single speck of light appeared to the girl, it beckoned her back to reality. She reached towards the light as it began to grow around her and soon she was consumed by it. After the light filled the darkness, she opened her eyes to find herself in a pale room that was clean and full of light. Lying in the flushed, almost empty room she heard the faint sound of someone talking in another room. She felt comfortable in this new environment that she found herself in, so she decided to fall back asleep for much needed rest.

After half an hour, she finally fell back asleep. Blackness surrounded her then a twinge of fear swept over her. Her eyes filled with a familiar sadness. Darkness cleared away to reveal the crossroads that she had been to before. Something wasn't right, there were mangled pieces of metal everywhere and glass shards filled the area. As she walked around, wandering what had happened, she stumbled upon the source of the metal and glass. A roll over car crash had occurred at the crossroads. Steaming, mangled metal covered the remaining parts of a tragic car crash. Everything began to piece together, the dream before were the minutes leading up to this traumatic event, and this was the aftermath. It was a horrible sight, the girl walked to the cars with caution. She saw a trail of disturbed earth and blood leading away from the car and into the grass. As she fallowed the trail, she saw the driver of the car she was in before lying in the grass with blood pouring out of scrapes on her arms. The girl turned her gaze from the driver to the not so lucky driver of the other car.

The other driver was a young man that must have been on his way back from a trip. He had glass imbedded everywhere and blood pouring out at a rapid pace. The girl wanted to help him but it was too late, the impact must have gotten to him first. Even thought this event couldn't have been prevented, she still felt responsible for this young man's sudden death. Then the thought finally came to her, she was called a murderer when she first came into town. Everyone probably blamed her for the man's death. Everything began to make more since.

She was abruptly awakened by a loud knocking sound that came from the front door. She shot out of the room where she had been asleep and ran toward the sound of angry people. When she came to the door, she was met by a group of people that basically cursed her name. She walked outside and confronted the people.

"I understand why you're here, and that you wish me to leave," she began,

"I've made some mistakes in my past, but that is no longer who I am."

"Just get out of this town before you kill someone else," shouted someone.

"Fine, I'll go, but before I leave," she said pulling out the old leather wallet from her pocket. "Just something to remember who I was and who I am no longer," she grabbed the ID and threw it at the towns people. She began down the road with her head held high.

One of the town's people picked up the ID and looked at it with a sad look in his eyes. "Aaron Jones," he spoke out loud, "so that was the girl's name, maybe we were too harsh on her," he said to the motel owner that stood next to him.

"Of course not, she chose her fate, just let her walk and terrorize another town," spoke the motel owner.

After an hour of walking through the dark Aaron came back to the crossroads where her story had begun. She stood in the center of the four roads, trying to figure out which way to go. She just kept walking straight, towards her new life and a fresh start, a life where she was free from accusations. She had for once a clean slate and a new reason to live; to make a new story for herself.