david melody : “lost”
The girl on the bicycle. I saw the girl on the bicycle. Stopped. What had I
seen?
The sun was still on top of me, drilling a hole in my head, killing any
shadow. She rode by. Not even shadow of spokes whirling on the hot, bare
land. My lips cracked red. A few stupid weeds wilted in a small crack, and I
wondered if streams ever flowed from the blue-black mountains.
I'd been hiking for two days since the fall, not the season, the accident.
Fool that I was, I'd left my phone, along with credit cards and gun in the
top drawer back at the studio. How much more foolish had I become, hiking
without direction, playing snare drum to the sun's slow beat?
Where did she go? I could certainly borrow her bike, even with its funny fat
tires. I could reach the highway by night, if there was still such a thing.
Nightfall, night crash, nightie-nite. Nightmare, nightgown. Night come a
tumbling down? I hadn't seen darkness since I'd started, which I knew
wasn't possible. Which made me more than just a fool.
She rode by again.
David Melody lives in Washington State. ‘Lost’ is from a series he is working on titled ‘Snap Shots’. His stories have appeared in Ghoti, Big Pulp, Birmingham Arts Journal, Diddledog, & The Writer's Eye Magazine.
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