The House of the Mind
By Hiadel
The Appalachian mountains sat in the distance as sergeant Mills drove his cop car. His wheels worked hard at climbing the steep grade of asphalt as he made his way to the top. The brown lettering of sheriff that was painted across the sides of his car matched the cliffs around him, and the bright badge reflected that of the sun. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. Today was going to be a good day. He could feel it. It was in the mountain air and the coffee.
---
Driving his rusty truck up the other side of the mountain Eric looked out the side of his window and saw the same beautiful scenery. His face didn’t show the same happiness that Mills had though. It was one instead of disdain and agony. There were eyes that seemed to be bracing for impact and a surrounding weariness in his skin. He was on his way to visiting his mother’s house.
It had been a long time ago since his last visit, and he has reason to not visit again. The only thing that draws him closer is “the family”, the ties that are supposed to exist in our society. Years of scorched feelings, past difficulties, all of these were contributing factors.
He set his eyes on the road before him and drove onward. It was the only thing he could do.
---
Somewhere in a dark place a glass prism hanged, suspended by steel chains. Inside was a man sitting on a stool with a wooden desk in front of him. Through the glass we can see him writing, slowly dragging his pen across paper. There is a small candle on the desk, the only source of light. It showed the chains supporting this wonder trailing up into the distance, slowly fading away as it lost sight of the light. The man at the desk sat there flushing everything out of his mind. Rain few on the scene and dripped off the corners of the glass prism. Little drops turned into larger and heavier ones as other droplets found their way onto the glass. There was no pause, or any peace. It was all a storm.
---
On his dashboard a Hawaiian girl danced for Eric, her hula skirt swinging with the curves in the road. Unlike her hips Eric saw his last encounter with his mother as anything but smooth. He could remember going up to the top of the mountain through the back roads to wind up in her driveway. She’d open up the wooden door to her small cottage and he’d be greeted by her and her cats. He still couldn’t understand how she didn’t know that he was slightly allergic to them. With rashes appearing on his knees he’d sit down and attempt conversation.
“So what’s for lunch?” Eric had said
“Oh, you’ll be so excited! I made your favorite” his mother said, motioning for him to come into the kitchen. Once there he saw a small bowl of grits sitting at the table. He cringed.
“Thanks, mother” he said, pausing. He didn't know what to say.
This memory was interrupted by a car flying from Eric’s left side to cut him off right in front of his truck. The whole dam highway’s open and he chooses to cut me off? A redness showed in his eye as he quickly turned his truck out of the lane. The car that had cut him off sped ahead, leaving him behind.
---
Through the storm that was raging around the glass prism rain could still be heard hard at work. The droplets pounded the glass and went on their way without a word. Then, at that moment, something new came. A single silver droplet fell from the darkness and hit the side of the prism. Even with the thousands of other drops falling with it, this one drop seemed to echo against the glass as it struck. The man at the table stopped writing and looked up; he noticed that something was wrong.
---
After the train that was Eric’s memory had been dislodged he couldn’t seem to get it back on track. All that left for him to think about was the open road ahead of him, and that car that had just cut him off.
Minutes went by and the clouds that were traveling the sky slowly went about their ways.
Again Eric’s mind became distraught. An old woman had slowed down ahead of him, and he couldn’t pass her. They had filled onto a single lane highway. Trying to cast a signal he edged his truck closer to her bumper. The old woman didn’t respond, perhaps she couldn’t see that far behind her. Eric pounded the steering wheel. Go faster! With that hit the train of thought edged back in line and he remembered the story about his mother that he had been thinking over.
After the dinner they went out onto the patio. He remembered feeling disappointed, not in her but in himself. He couldn’t bear to see her like that, living alone with all those cats. He always wished he could do more for her.
On the patio his mother walked to one of the wooden edges and turned back to her son. A look of surprise went across her face.
“Who are you?” she said, pointing at her son.
It was at this moment Eric knew that everything that hadn’t already been crumbling to pieces made its way south.
The rails on his train rattled as he lost control of his thoughts. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Eric floored the petal of his truck and tried to pass the old woman in front of him. He pulled over into the oncoming lane and swept past her.
---
The storm around the glass prism let out a loud gush and rained more silver droplets onto the scene. The man stood up from his stool and looked around. His eyes couldn’t read the scene. He was in the dark.
---
Sergeant Mills was around the bend and saw Eric darting out of the oncoming lane. He was going well over the speed limit. Seeing the opportunity to fill his quota Mills raced after Eric with his lights on.
Eric didn’t stop though. Instead of slowing down he sped up. Mills watched as Eric’s old truck was barely making it through the curves of the mountain road. Disaster danced within Mill’s eyes. This was leading Eric nowhere.
They rounded another corner in their chase and from his view Eric could see a sharp turn in the road. Bracing himself he turned hard, but his truck couldn’t make it.
---
Lightning struck the openness that engulfed the prism. The man inside turned towards it. From its direction he could hear a roar echoing in the distance. The chains supporting this wonder rattled and shook.
A metal monster hit the prism. It tore the glass apart as it made its way to the man inside of it and ate him whole. A loud engine and pistons accompanied it. Steam billowed from its top as it disposed of the man. The candle went out, and so did everything else.
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