The Road

A young girl has left her home in search of adventure.

Just because one does not have a reason to get out of the house does not mean she cannot. Packing up the few things she owned into two bags; stuffing a few blankets, pillows, and loose items into the back of her small silver ford.  She only turned to look back for a moment. This was good-bye, not just for a moment, but forever. Unless she had a great reason to return, she would not. No, this, this was good-bye for good.

She climbed into the front seat, stuck the key into the starter took a deep breath and started the car up. The growling of the engine only awoke her sense of adventure more, she curled her toes shook out her hands, stretching, before wrapping her fingers tightly around the wheel. Radio off all she could hear was the sounds of the tires, turning off the rocky drive to her childhood home and onto the pavement. In one direction she had town center, where she had spent all her youthful days striving for more, in the other, the highway, the unknown, and without a map, she could go anywhere, and no where.

And that was the plan.

Boston was full of cold hearts, cold pasts, lonely days, and a deep longing for a different life. A life worth writing about, one that would allow her to tell her children she found something in life that made her different, that changed her, that made a difference. She wanted; no, she needed those stories that make eyes go wide and one’s breath be held onto. Something to stun even her self with, the adventure, and her heart longed for adventure.

And even with what little she had in her pockets, what little she owned. She would find this adventure. Truth be told, somewhere deep, and yet closer to the surface then she would dare to think was a sense of fear. But, even that fear drove her heart toward the road that lead out of town, away from everything she already knew.

She turned the wheel, and let it all go, her past; left behind, along with whatever could have been.

Author's Note

mindless

Reviews

[TLK]

I say to increase the intensity of the difference between the known and the unknown. Have the faces of the wellwishers blur together into the past, until all they represent is mindless automaticity. Have the unknown be sharp and breathless -- have panic awaiting just because you turn right instead of left at a crossroads (do you say turnpike?).