In the distance I saw an orange glow peaking over the mountain tops. Maybe it was from the bomb they denotated that changed this world forever or it could have been from a gas explosion. I couldn’t work it out and to be honest, I really didn’t care.
I was on a long stretch of road, sitting on the bonnet of what felt like the hundredth car I had found since most of the world disappeared. The wind was whipping desert sand into the air, peppering my eyes, prickling my skin, drying my tongue out with the feeling and taste of inconvenience.
As much as I hated phones, I wish I had one right now to take a photo of this scenery, it is beautifully haunting. The night is creeping in and these yellow coloured lights always float across the sky. They remind me of the northern lights but my instinct tells me they are unnatural, even poisonous.
Thankfully I ransacked a stationary shop and gathered as much paper, pencils and sharpeners as I could to document my journey and sketch out this strange landscape I find myself in.
I don’t know if anyone I love or care about is still alive, I’d rather not think about. Maybe I’m too scared to go back home and find out, they are the human versions of Schrodinger’s Cat, they could be either be alive or dead until I return home and open the front door.
Hell, maybe they think about me the exact same way.
When the yellow lights creep in, it’s always best to get in the car and drive in the opposite direction until they fade from view.
I am driving in a Ford Crown Victoria at the moment, the previous driver didn’t leave any music for me to play. But was kind enough to leave a pair of baby maracas in the backseat.
So this is how I spend most of my days, shaking maracas in one hand, steering the wheel of the car in the other. Sometimes swerving the car side to side as I work on hitting the high notes to a song that by tomorrow I will have completely forgotten about.
Maybe I should these words down. Maybe I should figure out what I should be doing with my life.