Quarter Mile

​

This year, I lost someone. Not like they moved away or we had a falling out - I lost them for good. I know there's beauty in it. It's twisted and it's bleak but.. it is there. I know love will come back into my life and do something to fill the gap, too. That love won't be the same, though. It's like a star winking out, bringing forth darkness where once there was radiance. Other stars will come. Other stars will be just as beautiful. Yet, those stars won't hang in the sky exactly like the old one did.

​

"Hey! Twenty-two. You're up next." The coordinator spoke in the manner he always did. Like he didn't have enough time for anything, syllables seemingly crunched and crowded together in his rush. As he continued walking past, though, he paused. His eye's ran over the blue paint and the faded golden accents. Though his legs still twitched urging him to continue, he took just a moment. "Your old man's?" he asked.

​

The oil from the radiator leak still clung to my gloves. The chill of the winter night highlighted what portions of my skin were now covered in the yellowish fluid. I nodded to the coordinator.

​

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut is just as quickly. He returned the nod, and moved briskly onward down the line of cars warming in the pit.

​

I'd patched the radiator, but barely. I re-topped off the coolant reservoir, but part of me still expected the thing to blow on the strip. Dad and I never quite got this thing singing like he wanted. There just wasn't enough time. I reckon there never could be, though. As I stepped into the drivers side and lowered into the seat, I could smell it. His cigarettes and the cheap cologne.

​

"Next up, roll to the line!" the PA system blared. The clutch slipped slightly as I let off it, gingerly giving it enough gas to crawl forward. Dad always joked about living a quarter mile at a time. I figure this car ought to have one more life in it, even if it was its last.

​

The smell of exhaust running a little too rich melded with cabin's scent. It smelled like so many days from the past. The light in front of me gleamed red against the black night, blurred by the smudged windscreen.

​

Then, for a moment, yellow.

​

Finally green.

​

The clutch barely held on as I dumped it through first gear. The motor screamed and howled in the night, headless of its own life. Rubber kissed asphalt, then found traction. My heart beat faster than the drumming of the cylinders within the machine.

​

The smile across my face was unrelenting. It was infectious. Every foot brought me closer to the end of the quarter mile, but also let me experience it. In rearview window, the starting line faded to yield to the horizon.

​

In the reflection, the stars twinkled brightly.

​

[WC: 498]

The conductor had saved this piece for his final encore. It was to be his last performance, but he wanted it to mean everything. This was for his idol.

After getting the signal that the audience was at attention, he looked out over his charges. Violins at the ready. Percussion standing by. A choir taking their deep breaths. With subtle flicks of his hand, he counted off the 6/8 time needed. And with a nod, he brought the instruments in for the final movement of the Ninth.

The many stringed instruments played their intro, loudly sending the tones of the great German echoing through the concert hall. As they finished setting the tone, the percussion joined in, a long cymbal roll producing a crescendo designed to invite singing. And sing, the choir did, at full volume:

Freude, schöner Götterfunken,
Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

The lyrics of Schiller joined the glorious melodies and enraptured the crowd who had gathered. But the old master conductor wasn't satisfied. It wasn't enough that they heard this glory; they must feel it! As his baton wagged back and forth in time, his free hand raised upward, encouraging both orchestra and choir to be louder. Always, in his mind, fortissimo, FORTISSIMO, maximum volume!

As the choir switched from German to English, from Schiller to Van Dyke, from Ode to Hymn, the conductor felt it in the podium and in his heart. This, THIS was what the idol had intended. A noise to rock the heavens, a paean to the very feeling of positivity that the universe would sense! Let them know, he thought! Let them all see what humanity can do when blessed with euphoria!

Choir and orchestra ended their beautiful noise in a frenzy of heavenly inspiration:

Melt the clouds of sin and sadness,
Drive the dark of doubt away.
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day!

As the performance ended and the musicians recovered, the conductor waited. The orchestra stood first, as one, and bowed. The conductor pointed to his choir, which in turn took their bows. And as he caught his breath, he saw his first violinist telling him to turn around.

Thousands of men and women, in their finest suits and dresses, were standing, their hands producing a noise that reciprocated the piece. The conductor bowed as well and, after sufficient time, walked off the stage to the back.

Stagehands first, directors second, then his fellow performers -- all greeted him, congratulated him on a fine career and a wonderful finale. The conductor stood and took notice of their words before turning to his interpreter. With a flurry of hand gestures, the interpreter helped him understand what they were saying: Ludwig would have been pleased with that final encore.

He stood and smiled in his personal silence. He had done his idol proud.

[WC: 480]

Three adventurers trudged out of the woods. Mud-splattered and caked in an assortment of different, but disgusting, layers of slime, they somehow managed to convey they had a bigger problem than their looming laundry challenges.

"We don't have to do this." The rogue was saying, her topknot of brown hair sticking straight up do to a lingering electric charge, "We could just, you know..."

"What?" The armored giant rumbled, "What, Kelsie? Say it. You can't, can you? Because you don't have the heart. So shut up, buck up, and do this."

Kelsie turned away to wipe a long strand of blueberry filling off of her collar.

"Please don't shout, Tark." The robed mage said from behind.

"Brackramos, say one more thing and I'm gonna snap that magic staff of yours in half."

The rest of the stomping to the house was done in silence, each person leaving a different lingering smell and a trail of various viscosities in their wake. Steps were climbed, deep breaths were taken, lingering doubts clouded about and punched through as Tark's hand rose and knocked upon the cottage door.

It swung open immediately, revealing the red and puffy face of a young girl.

"You're back!" She squealed, then lost the glimmer of excitement in her voice with her next words, "Did... did you find her?"

Tark, Kelsie, and Brackramos shared a look.

"Look, Nell...Uh..." Tark began.

"The thing is.... um." Kelsie looked aside.

"We have completed your 'quest,' as it is." Brackramos said in a peppy tone, "However, when we began our chase of your pet Lilyfluff, we had a bit of a setback."

"Set...back?"

"Yeah." Tark noisily cleared his throat until a small frog jumped out of his mouth, "See, yer little Lilyfluff, she... ran away from us."

"She did that to me too!" Nell stomped her foot, "She's a bad kitty!"

"No kidding." Kelsie snorted.

"Thing is, she, uh, she ran into the magical swamp." Tark said.

Nell's eyes went wide.

"And then she climbed inside a thunder tree..." Kelsie groaned.

"Don't forget the changing mist!" Brackramos added, "That was really fun, with all the charged energy from the-"

"Shut up, Brack." The others said together.

"Look, kiddo." Kelsie knelt down and sighed, "What we're trying to say is... your little kitty, she ain't a kitty no more."

"L...Lily....Lilyfluff is dead?"

"Well, no..."

Nell threw her head back and wailed, "Lilllllllyyyyyyyy!"

From the trees there came a rustle, then a thunder, as a monster the size of a house leapt out of the darkness. It had scorpion tails and bear claws, feathered wings, and a cute, little, pink nose. It pounced up to the cottage, swatting the adventurers aside so it could bend down and nuzzle the little girl.

"Lily?" Came a started squeal, "Lily! OH my! You're big now! Who's the best kitty? Lily! Lily! Lily!"

From under a massive paw came a moan, a whimper, and a tiny voice saying: "We're not getting paid for this, are we?"

[removed]

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