Memory

Memory

I don’t remember much anymore. I can barely formulate a single memory. It takes so much from me. My mind flashes to nonconsecutive clips of brief and mystifying moments. When my hand’s no longer grasp the cold rubber of the steering wheel to a car I consider a passing friend, but they stick, warm and moist, to the frozen glass of our crimson coated family van. I sit cuddled to the soft worn leather, encompassed by emanated heat and the silent thoughts of my family. My dad flawlessly maneuvers through the snow compacted streets, and our drowsy eyes focus on the glistening crystals of the powdered grounds... I am gripping the seats of our onyx black Mercedes, my clammy hands rooted into the thick dark leather urgently trying to secure myself to the spot. The bodies of my brothers and sister are slammed away and against me, away and against me. We are pleading, stop, stop, stop but he does not hear us. His rage has no speed limit and our fear is his fuel. Our cacophony of cries are being thrown against the suffocating wind-tearing box. I separate mind and body and my eyes focus on the distant darkness. 

Author's Note

A different style than I normally post.