Night Ride (freewrite)

Her bone-thin hands snake their way up slow, clutching desperately in the darkness, looking for him when he's no longer there. His voice, gruff and sweet at the same time seizes her, makes her heart catch in her throat and –

then, just as she's losing all hope of ever finding him, he pulls her into his arms and holds her tight against all the cold wind that beats through the night. She could kiss him just now, but no, that's not what this is about. It'd be weird and he might let her go, back through the dark. And she doesn't want that. Nobody wants to go back into the darkness.
He pulls her scarf down, twisting it around his fingers and slowly kissing her head. She's beautiful just now, in the night lights, the sounds of the highway slivering around them like broken rays of sunlight. They're safe for now, just a little. But they can't stop, they can't sit down or it will find them again.

It wasn't supposed to end like this, but then, it so rarely is, isn't it? They were supposed to run away into the night together and get gloriously drunk and be happy, even just for a little while. Not together, of course, because they didn't know each other then. She, long neck, back perfectly straight and eyes like a hawk – a princess, but one guarded by a very tall tower – she was supposed to be going out with her latest prince. No knight in shining armor, but he'd have to do. He was so tall and prince-like, so what if he was as dull as a doorknob? So what if he couldn't possibly stand up to her wit and more than half her references just passed him by? He was taking her out to Roxane's, the fanciest restaurant in town and she really wanted to go.
Look, she's still wearing them now, the diamonds that were low-key but dazzling. She clasped them around her neck, so gentle. Every time she got ready to go out, she felt like in a movie, all around her was slow and everything could happen. She might just end up happy tonight. Or she might very well not.
Her long blue dress now hangs in tatters around her skinny legs. Long and crystal-white, they would catch the lights of passing cars if they weren't covered in thick crusts of blood and dirt.

It wasn't meant to end like this for him either. He'd been getting ready to go out, not for a date, he wasn't the romantic kind. But the guy at the corner joint sometimes let him play in the back around three, when everyone was already pleasantly drunk and he could squeeze in some of his original pieces without getting too much hassle.
Truth was ever since the band had kicked him out, he'd been kinda down on his luck. Lorie had left him, but that was really the least of his worries. Lorie wasn't more than a passing attraction, not for lack of trying, but she was so lackluster, really. She'd interrupt him halfway through his songs, like you would a child who although cute and somewhat charming, is just taking up too much of your time. You did your bit, you listened politely so that he doesn't feel ignored and you get a clap on the back for being a good parent. Or, in Lorie's case, a good girlfriend.

The trouble with Lorie's leaving, however, was that she also took the apartment. And while it wasn't the Ritz, by any means, it was a lot better than the two rooms he was renting now. But that didn't matter. He'd work his way up at the pub, little by little, and people would be forced to listen to him. It's just...it was getting a bit hard to want them to listen. He'd seen one too many frowns and wayward glances, it seemed and he thought, in his head, that his music was dimming.

Strumming. Notes. Angels bristling around the heads of the drunken sleepers and calling him onward. Music, loud and booming into his ears, eyes crying, voices silent. He opened his eyes to find he was indeed weeping and that nobody was even looking at him. Nobody was hearing him and so, he strummed louder and the people talked on. Angrier and angrier until the chords on his guitar went bust and he was forced to breathe again. And to leave.
He walked away from the neon-light joint, broken guitar on his weary back. And that's when he saw her.

Or rather, that's when she saw him. Lost in thought, she'd been shifting the gear like crazy, batting away tears, willing the highway to swallow her up, make her one with it. She didn't want to die, it wasn't that. It was just...well, she didn't really want to live either. So, she drove, and if some drunken truck was to swing by in her face, she wouldn't have said no. But it wasn't a truck made its way to her, but a man, stooped and dry-eyed, even though his cheeks still bore the streaks of loss and silence.
And she couldn't drive into him, but she couldn't let him be. And it would've been easy if she'd just swerved and ran off the side of the road, but somehow, she couldn't do that either.

She stopped the car right in front of him and, pulling her coat tight around her, she stepped out into the cold night air.
'Need a ride?' she called out and realized, in that second, how silly she sounded. How, if this was a movie, he'd come at her with an ax. But he didn't have an ax. All he had was a busted guitar.
She knew it was stupid and she knew she was being dangerous, but she thought she didn't care. Just this once, she'd be dangerous, she'd let the crazy run into her. So what if it might break her bones? So what if her mother would've never done this?
The hour was getting late and she was getting a bit tired of playing her mother.

'Sure.'
The words come out, even though he doesn't. He's going home, or at least he's supposed to be, and it's not all that far. Hell, even with the walk, it's not more than ten minutes. But there's something, there's a story in this woman – lost in her pale blue dress. She'd much rather be at home in fluffy socks and with a bowl of food before her. She's been crying, but in that secret way some people do so that you don't know they've been crying. She's mortified someone will discover her secret. Or she was. She's not sure who she is now and he kinda thinks he'd like to know.
And if we're to be perfectly honest, he's got nowhere better to go either.

So yeah, he could go for a ride.

To be continued.

This is a freewrite based on the prompt 'passenger'. Wonderful things can happen if you let your mind wander and you might even hear the music. This is an initiative started and hosted by @mariannewest, check her blog out.

Thank you for reading,

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