Crossroads. 12:00 Am . The Road Stretched And The Lights

The city always seemed to push the stars farther away from the world in the dead of night. Rain had begun to sprinkle downtown and it began to trickle across the top of the parked cars in the street. Vernon was sitting there silently listening to the drizzle outside that sounded like pebbles falling on a tin roof, still thinking about the dreams his been having. The Coffee Cup was like any other diner nestled between apartments and liquor stores. There was seven cut-up stools and behind them against the wall sat a cigarette machine and no smoking sign. The counter was worn from years of service. Two booths sat facing the storefront windows

    After the narrator’s ‘clean up’ he heard a knock from three police officers who got a call about a scream from the house. They asked to search the house and asks some questions, the narrator felt fine and let the officers in. The narrator took the officers to each room and even sat down in the bedroom to sit and discuss about the scream. “I soon wished that they would go. My head hurt and there was a strange sound in my ears. I talked more, and faster. The sound became clearer. And still they sat and talked.” The narrator was being a little cocky about his clean up and thought he was in the clear, but was getting annoyed for how long the officers were staying for. Soon the narrator started to hear the soft ticking sound he once swore against. The narrator started to grow paranoid from this sound and soon began to snap. “Suddenly I knew

At last, the bell finally rung, and I was headed home to get my gear. Hastily packing because lessons began at approximately 4:30, with about an hour drive. I hopped in the car next to Carolyn with minimal excitement. My nerves began to set in. I sat back and attempted to relax while we traveled past Delaware onto Earlville. Watching cars and fields pass by aided me to relieve some stress. I quickly forgot where I was going and why. Time flew by in that red Ford Escape. The trip from Manchester to Asbury seemed to only take fifteen minutes instead of forty five. We arrived far too soon, yet we were still late.

Dave was knocked into reality when he heard a loud scream. He looked around, and called out “Hello?”

In the outskirts of New York, dirt filled slush clings to the white cement on a December evening. Tiny droplets of frozen water blob on the ground and melt, getting crushed by afternoon stragglers. Buildings cluster together for warmth in the biting winter chill. The structures, many tall and slim while some are squat and obtuse, line the streets of blazing horns and shouting pedestrians. The sounds of people stomping their feet before they enter busses, offices, and cars echo off each skyscraper and continue to bounce until it is too faint to be perceived. As rush hour begins to stall, two men dart into the densely populated street not caring to stop for oncoming traffic. One man is tall and thin with gangy limbs too long for his body. His eyes, dark grey flickering nonstop, are calculative, possessive, and intelligent.

“Call the police,” I said. “Hurry.” she was leaving Michael in the hospital so

Amidst the swirling ripple of faceless people meandering around fire hydrants, pedestrian signs, and ragged newspaper stands, he stood; embedded within the relentless stream of continuous people trickling by him. The occasional nudge threatened to dislodge his balance as he gazed across the road where two buildings laden by carmine shaded bricks separated. The same two buildings he walked directly pass early in the dewy morning and late in the brisk evening weather everyday for the past two decades. Surely he knew every wondering power line and dimly lit alley of the surrounding neighborhood? Yet something glimmered from in between the impossibly small gap separating the buildings. His conscious turned from thought to action as he leapt from the scuffed curb and into the high voltage current of traffic without a second

“Well. like I was telling your Chief, we’re investigating a series of home invasions turn child abductions. They might relate to some child abductions a few years ago and I believe that your John Doe might be one of the victims. He may be able to help us solve this.” I reply while looking directly at Doctor Alba.

He loved New York during the Spring. The emergence of people walking along the streets after a long, cold winter, the blooming of beautiful flowers, the way the sun tickled the streets and buildings with the promise of new beginnings. Why had he stayed away so long? That was a stupid question. Unfortunately, now, she was long gone and he would never see her again. He would never have the opportunity to explain.

As I paid my visits to Elkton, a new town revealed itself. Elkton was dying. The sign on the hardware store had fallen on one side, the movie store had bankrupted and closed, and the tiny library was a pathetic joke. I never went back to the thrift store, I had thrown away my stuffed animals long ago, and the place stank of cheap cigarettes. Worst of all, the little house I had once lived in was dead and vacant. Weeds almost swallowed the "For Sale" sign at the road, and a green film grew over the siding. To me, Elkton reeked of decay and hopelessness. I hated the

Zack reached down and pulled the handle. He had to use his shoulder to get the door open. He gritted out a cry of pain as he got out and leaned against one of Monty’s cars. Tina managed to scoot out and hit the pavement. She looked over at Garrett to see his full attention was on the car in front of him. Zack managed to get the backseat opened and ushered Tina inside first. He crawled in after her and pulled the door closed. “I’m getting the two of them to the hospital. Move to block him in. Cops are on the way,” the driver said over a radio. A couple of other voices came back over the radio with a ‘Roger that’ and then they were off.

Buzzing townspeople littered the streets, emitting an atmosphere of excitement and anticipation. Basil leaves that atmosphere behind, weaving through the dim alleyways, each turn further distancing him from the noise. Soon the cobble path turned into gravel, each step making a crunch that bounced and echoed on the decaying walls. A cool breeze from behind him pulled at his gray cloak, entering the dark abyss of the warehouse entrance before him. He steels himself— shoulders lowered, chin up, and back straight— and enters the shadowed entrance.

The landscape of The Road is constructed with the repetition of words like dark and ashes to create the sense of a “desolate country” built from the remains of what existed prior to it. Mrs. Mallard in The Story of an Hour looks out her window to a landscape that is described as blooming with the “new spring life” and “delicious breath of rain” which creates a sense of hope and happiness.

As he walked closer, he heard a news report, “Early this morning, around 4 AM, there was fatal accident on the corner of Concord Street. Ambulance and police are still on the scene. There were 3 injured and one dead, which was one of the drivers. It was mostly likely the drunk driver that had caused the accident.”

William stared over the expanse of greater New Haven from the top of the castle facing east. Black tendrils of smoke curled into the air from homes burning in the blighted suburban neighborhoods of North Haven and Hamden. In New Haven proper, tendrils of smoke from burning tires marking gangland territory twisted over the city and floated over Long Island Sound. William walked to the southern side of the castle and stared out towards Stony Creek. He wondered if his home on Roger’s Island had been spared the looting and vagrant raids of the past decade. He hadn’t visited the island in many years because The Movement no longer provided helicopter transportation, and ground transportation through New Haven and all along the shoreline was rife with highway robbers and gangs. William took a deep breath. The oppressively humid, hot, and stagnant air did little to refresh the capillaries in his lungs.