What is in my mind? I can't tell, can you?
This was written for me, but it was written for you too. They can both happen at the same time.
The light flickered, its fading beam only a shade of the brilliance it once was. It was old. It had seen many nights come and go, turning on faithfully each day as the sun set and resting with its return. The light had borne witness to many events, the comings and goings of cars, of people, humanity streaming by as time worked its slow and steady course, moving those people inexorably into their futures. Their lives were always changing, but the light was constant. And now it was dying.
Flicker. The light was going. The parking lot on the highway was cast into momentary darkness, shadows created by the neighboring light growing in length until it seemed as if they stretched to the horizon. The light remembered.
The shadows were long, the sun was going down. The light was on even though there was honestly no need for it yet. A young boy was playing in the parking lot, a remote control in his hand. As he pulled the trigger, a little green car moved around the parking lot. Turn the dial, turn the car. It moved left and right and left again in random formations, and the boy smiled to himself. He could make the car do whatever he wanted to, and he was pleased. The car had been worth the effort it had taken him to get it. He loved the car, it was his. He continued to play. Another boy-older, bigger than the first-came up behind and grabbed the control away. The green car stopped and started again, moving with the will of its new master. The young boy was scared. He did not know who this older boy was. He screamed, but to no avail. The older boy just laughed and kept driving, directing the car whichever direction he chose. The younger jumped on him, trying to grab back the car in the same fashion it was removed from him, but to no avail.
Try as he might, he could not get the control back. He asked, he tried to trick the older boy by pretending that he had lost interest, but when it came down to it, the problem was always the same. The other boy was bigger, and there was no getting the control back from him until he was ready to forfeit it. So the boy sat and waited. And waited. It became dark, and the light showered the two as they sat in the lot. The younger boy was tired, he needed to get home, but he wouldn’t leave without his car. He watched and waited for what he wanted to come to him, as he thought it would. However, the older boy was clever in his methods. He saw that the younger had not given up on his car, but he had already has his fun with it. Finding no way to both appease his desire to torment the boy and do something more worthwhile, he picked up the car and controller both and smashed them into the ground. They were destroyed, never to return to the way they had been. The older boy left, smiling to himself as he listened to the fading noises of his young victim in despair.
The light flickered. The lot was still empty, the night lonely for it this cycle. It was giving a gift with nobody to receive it, and it wondered what, then, it was even doing on, wasting the short time it had left shining for nobody to see. There was nothing for it here, and the end was near. Flicker. The light remembered.
The lot was full, cars parked in every space up into the very back rows, with more to spare driving up and down the aisles, waiting to find the best position for themselves. This was a cutthroat game of musical chairs, but the music was always playing and always ending, simultaneously, throwing the drivers into chaos. Nobody knew when they would find a spot, and so the drove on, always hoping to get lucky. It was fascinating to the light. It watched as each car moved up and down the rows, noticing how the majority tended toward the front side of the lot, as if hoping against hope that a spot would open just as they were in range to race to it. Those that stayed in the back quickly found spots, as the worse ones, those in the sun and those at the end were vacated and lacked competition, but some cars refused to settle for a bad spot, or missed their opportunity to get one while trying frantically to get lucky, as if luck were a tool-a power they commanded. It was those cars in particular that the light found interesting.
They came in all shapes and varieties, but they all had one aspect in common: the perfect blend of reasonable behavior and luck-casting aside all logic with the hope that their timing would be blessed with fortune-to assure that they would never end up in a spot they found satisfactory. They roamed the lot chronically, and there were always a few moving up and down the aisles. The light watched them individually and noticed an interesting behavior. These cars were very observant, perhaps the most observant of the bunch. They always noticed open spots and began to move in their direction, but were beaten by people who had position on them, who were already in an advantageous spot to take action. As they got beaten to spots towards the back, they would move to the front, hoping desperately that there would be a spot open there, as if lady luck would repay them for her cruel joke. And each time as they failed to get lucky as those who had already beaten them had, they moved further back before taking an opportunity to turn around. Some repeated this sequence four or five times, each failure resulting in a trip further back on the lot, until at last they learned to hang back, avoiding the front altogether. And then they parked, and their precious cargo removed itself and walked into the building that all along was its destination.
Flicker. The light was ended. The parking lot was cast into darkness, but light never returned. It was dark for some time, who knows how long. A sole pair of headlights pulled into the lot. A man stepped out of the car, another following him from the opposite side. They talked for a little while in the darkness, their shadows long as the neighboring light once again tried to make up for the deficiency of its former partner.
“I remember this lot,” said one man, “I played here once.” The reply came quietly, with much shuffling and delay.
“I know you remember. I played here once too. I just… I wanted to say that I am sorry. For what I did that day.”
“We were only boys, I know you didn’t mean it.” The younger shuffled. “I’m still close to a boy, truth be told. It wasn’t even that long ago. I got over it.”
“I know, but still…” the older man struggled with his apology, unable to find the words. The darkness hid his face, a reality he was happy for. He was more comfortable with his vulnerability hidden. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. You worked for five months to get that car, what with the dishes and lawn mowing. It just wasn’t something a brother does to a brother. I’m sorry.”
Movement. The younger man moved to sit next to his brother, leaning on the hood of the car. There was no more talking, only silence as the two sat there, watching the darkness. The distant light played across their backs, and their shadows stretched out in front of them, but there was nothing sinister in it. They seemed to continue on, to exist separately until that distant point across the lot where they met, joined together, unavoidably united. But this was no longer a problem.
It's not as long as the last one, but it still deserves the cut.
The light flickered, its fading beam only a shade of the brilliance it once was. It was old. It had seen many nights come and go, turning on faithfully each day as the sun set and resting with its return. The light had borne witness to many events, the comings and goings of cars, of people, humanity streaming by as time worked its slow and steady course, moving those people inexorably into their futures. Their lives were always changing, but the light was constant. And now it was dying.
Flicker. The light was going. The parking lot on the highway was cast into momentary darkness, shadows created by the neighboring light growing in length until it seemed as if they stretched to the horizon. The light remembered.
The shadows were long, the sun was going down. The light was on even though there was honestly no need for it yet. A young boy was playing in the parking lot, a remote control in his hand. As he pulled the trigger, a little green car moved around the parking lot. Turn the dial, turn the car. It moved left and right and left again in random formations, and the boy smiled to himself. He could make the car do whatever he wanted to, and he was pleased. The car had been worth the effort it had taken him to get it. He loved the car, it was his. He continued to play. Another boy-older, bigger than the first-came up behind and grabbed the control away. The green car stopped and started again, moving with the will of its new master. The young boy was scared. He did not know who this older boy was. He screamed, but to no avail. The older boy just laughed and kept driving, directing the car whichever direction he chose. The younger jumped on him, trying to grab back the car in the same fashion it was removed from him, but to no avail.
Try as he might, he could not get the control back. He asked, he tried to trick the older boy by pretending that he had lost interest, but when it came down to it, the problem was always the same. The other boy was bigger, and there was no getting the control back from him until he was ready to forfeit it. So the boy sat and waited. And waited. It became dark, and the light showered the two as they sat in the lot. The younger boy was tired, he needed to get home, but he wouldn’t leave without his car. He watched and waited for what he wanted to come to him, as he thought it would. However, the older boy was clever in his methods. He saw that the younger had not given up on his car, but he had already has his fun with it. Finding no way to both appease his desire to torment the boy and do something more worthwhile, he picked up the car and controller both and smashed them into the ground. They were destroyed, never to return to the way they had been. The older boy left, smiling to himself as he listened to the fading noises of his young victim in despair.
The light flickered. The lot was still empty, the night lonely for it this cycle. It was giving a gift with nobody to receive it, and it wondered what, then, it was even doing on, wasting the short time it had left shining for nobody to see. There was nothing for it here, and the end was near. Flicker. The light remembered.
The lot was full, cars parked in every space up into the very back rows, with more to spare driving up and down the aisles, waiting to find the best position for themselves. This was a cutthroat game of musical chairs, but the music was always playing and always ending, simultaneously, throwing the drivers into chaos. Nobody knew when they would find a spot, and so the drove on, always hoping to get lucky. It was fascinating to the light. It watched as each car moved up and down the rows, noticing how the majority tended toward the front side of the lot, as if hoping against hope that a spot would open just as they were in range to race to it. Those that stayed in the back quickly found spots, as the worse ones, those in the sun and those at the end were vacated and lacked competition, but some cars refused to settle for a bad spot, or missed their opportunity to get one while trying frantically to get lucky, as if luck were a tool-a power they commanded. It was those cars in particular that the light found interesting.
They came in all shapes and varieties, but they all had one aspect in common: the perfect blend of reasonable behavior and luck-casting aside all logic with the hope that their timing would be blessed with fortune-to assure that they would never end up in a spot they found satisfactory. They roamed the lot chronically, and there were always a few moving up and down the aisles. The light watched them individually and noticed an interesting behavior. These cars were very observant, perhaps the most observant of the bunch. They always noticed open spots and began to move in their direction, but were beaten by people who had position on them, who were already in an advantageous spot to take action. As they got beaten to spots towards the back, they would move to the front, hoping desperately that there would be a spot open there, as if lady luck would repay them for her cruel joke. And each time as they failed to get lucky as those who had already beaten them had, they moved further back before taking an opportunity to turn around. Some repeated this sequence four or five times, each failure resulting in a trip further back on the lot, until at last they learned to hang back, avoiding the front altogether. And then they parked, and their precious cargo removed itself and walked into the building that all along was its destination.
Flicker. The light was ended. The parking lot was cast into darkness, but light never returned. It was dark for some time, who knows how long. A sole pair of headlights pulled into the lot. A man stepped out of the car, another following him from the opposite side. They talked for a little while in the darkness, their shadows long as the neighboring light once again tried to make up for the deficiency of its former partner.
“I remember this lot,” said one man, “I played here once.” The reply came quietly, with much shuffling and delay.
“I know you remember. I played here once too. I just… I wanted to say that I am sorry. For what I did that day.”
“We were only boys, I know you didn’t mean it.” The younger shuffled. “I’m still close to a boy, truth be told. It wasn’t even that long ago. I got over it.”
“I know, but still…” the older man struggled with his apology, unable to find the words. The darkness hid his face, a reality he was happy for. He was more comfortable with his vulnerability hidden. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. You worked for five months to get that car, what with the dishes and lawn mowing. It just wasn’t something a brother does to a brother. I’m sorry.”
Movement. The younger man moved to sit next to his brother, leaning on the hood of the car. There was no more talking, only silence as the two sat there, watching the darkness. The distant light played across their backs, and their shadows stretched out in front of them, but there was nothing sinister in it. They seemed to continue on, to exist separately until that distant point across the lot where they met, joined together, unavoidably united. But this was no longer a problem.
It's not as long as the last one, but it still deserves the cut.