Short Story "Behind the Walls"

“I remember that day as if it was yesterday.
It is a common feeling to try and explain somthing and only being able to come up with simple metaphors that don't fully capture the phenomenon.
It was odd. When we knocked you could hear the dull moan of noises from their TV turn off. I could only imagine what the minds rustling inside this small country shack might think of visitors this late. They were probably enjoying their daily routine, now they’re scattering about.
It took them awhile to finally open the door. I remember it, it was big, red, and it creaked the moans of the dead when that haggard old soul answered the door. She looked terrified out of her mind. She peeked through the crack, hesitating to unlock the chain, staring at two half naked kids in the middle of the night. We were both chattering and shaking and all I wanted was to be at home with a giant pizza and warmth. I was so cold.
I asked politely if I could use her phone, just hoping find a ride home, and she made us wait outside while she got it. After she gave it to me, I called my parents. I was in the middle of telling the story of our situation, when the old lady cut me off.
She told me, “It’s all right. I’ll give you a ride home. I was scared you was one of those damn thief’s that keep coming around here.”
I thought she was a nice old lady and she invited us in to warm up, giving us tea and blankets. We sat on her couch for a good ten minutes, just watching the news while this old lady knitted.
She sat there, just minding her own business. The walls behind her started to bleed. I could feel it, and my head was tingling. The blanket felt really heavy, almost as if they were wrapping themselves around me. It was threatening to pull me into an abyss. I pushed it off of me, ignoring it, expecting that I was just feeling something weird from changing from coldness to heat so fast, but looking over at Wilber; I knew something wasn’t right.
His head was tilted to the side. His skin was pale, and there was a greyness tinge to him. He had his head tilted onto the pillow on the couch, half slanted. Blackness was consuming his eyes. He was a zombie, lying against a bright red couch, covered in little flowers.
I could feel my heart beat behind my eyes. It was pushing, making me see the pulses. It started getting higher and I could feel it causing me to feel pale, weak, everything was fading, I was fading.
I came to after hunching over and puking all over the carpet in front of the TV. My insides felt like death, my stomach was revolting; it was something I’ve never felt before. I was sure I was dying. It wasn’t until having the room spin around me that I awoke.
I was lying in a bed in some room. It was almost like a guest room. Everything was bright white, no color anywhere. It was an average size room with a single bed and a lamp post. It was dull and made something inside of me scream. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on.”
“Then what happened?”
“I can’t bring myself to remember. It’s almost as if it was painted out of my memory.”

Jay G.

A Roadside Reflection

While looking through pictures of last summer’s road trip, this picture caught my attention. It was hot, there was no air conditioning, and I was drenched in sweat. Keeping the windows open didn’t help anything because the air was scorching, but despite the sting of sweat, it was a time that will never be forgotten in my mind.
Somewhere in Oregon, where this picture was taken, some other life was going on. I was just a reflection in a window, with the lives of others going by un-noticed. As an outsider, the subtle movements of the inhabitants seemed to merely reflect my own simple life. The drama, pride, and everything else included with our social binding instincts, seems to keep the entire world traped within the same boundaries.
While other lives push on in their own direction, my 92 Ford Ranger pulled me through to the salty scent of the California coast. After making it down to Santa Cruz and spending a day on the beach, the truck didn’t sound right. It seemed a bit heat drained, while it worked hard to maintain its endurance. I was a bit in fear, not knowing if it would make it home 3000kms away, but I pushed it all the way, and she made it.
The memories of my adventure through the west coast of the USA continue to hit me vividly, each picture bringing back a different moment of scenic parade. If I could be anywhere right now, it would be on the bench seat of my Ford Ranger, riding the highways into the unknown, and making plans as they come.