Short Story About a Road

I wrote this a while ago but I think since it's been so long since I've been online it might be appreciated.

Short Story 1.

Me and her used to sit on the roadside and watch the cars fly by. A little thin road. Inches from the curb. We despise the rush, yet still we come, so do the cars. A million flies hit your face and a scream loud and inhuman. Almost a ritual. 

Soon we devise a game and live in what we hate. Nothing but us and the cars. Run! Quickly! One is coming again! Jump over as fast as you can, too fast for the driver to brake. Fast enough for the evil rush to sneak up your spine and out of your mouth. Good, you evaded certain death. Many times we do this. If you live so near death long enough he no longer feels real, because he isn’t.

I can still see her now, what a graceful dancer! A beautiful thing in dirty old flower print dresses. And I, watching her. We jump between the large terrors on the road. Afterwards we may walk back together to our evil homes. All is evil. Father loves to scream. So does everyone else. Her home was quiet. Everyone slept and laughed and she only had dry ramen in her pantry. But something was so scary about that. We go back to play with the road.

When we lay in the grass it is always wet. We get soaked. The flowers always grow into the road. Picking them is a new dance. How much joy can we pick before we must jump away from evil. Once a driver stopped. She told us to keep out of the road. We could get hurt. We told her we understood and would stop.We didn’t. It’s not like she could understand anyways. Lying isn’t such a bad sin. 

I still remember it happening. We were only doing what we always did. The cars were not supposed to swerve, that wasn’t part of the game. She was the most beautiful I had seen her when she went running. And then she was on the ground with her ribs bending inward. The car drove on. I ran my hand over her body and suddenly something in me flipped my stomach over. I felt and moved like in a dream, I picked her up the way a soldier carries a flag. With respect. I went to her house and shook her mother very hard until she woke. That was the last time I was in her home. It was the only time I had heard loud voices there.

I will always see her at night. She appears in my mind and I see her with my soul. She speaks to me in her thick voice and I see the cars. It never fails to make me feel ill, but I like to see her. I tried to play the game again. Instead my head swam and I spilled my stomach onto the grass. I watch the road from the window instead now.