This is an attempt to take an old creative writing assignment and rework it to something I like a bit better.  Here is what I came up with:

It came quickly, the image. Right when the clean guitar did: Deep South, middle of the night, a camera floating above a 1986 Silverado. The driver’s slicked back hair shines and dulls as the street lights pass overhead. The empty bottle in the coaster rattles with each bump of the road.

The song oozes out of his fuzzy speakers as he wades in his thoughts. He can’t get by on the drinking and bars with neon signs anymore, he thinks. He reaches his hand reflexively to the passenger seat to only catch air.  The driver curses himself and moves it back to the armrest.

Lighting sparks across the sky and a low roll of thunder peaks above the music. He keeps one arm on the wheel. The wipers swipe away the gentle vinyl crackling of rain. The guitar screams, the sloppy retelling of its motif like a drunk telling a story.

Where did it go wrong? He hits a pothole disguised as a puddle and the bottle jumps out of the coaster. In front of him is a cracked two-lane highway and the spring trees whose leaves high five the rain as it falls from the gray night sky above. 

— — —

Jay lets the song fade out. It finishes like it started; the guitar loops until it is inaudible. He tells us our assignment is to write something truthful about what we just heard. I’m still Play-Dohing the main character’s face and pushing the car down the road while others pack their laptops.  

One classmate pipes up before we all  jump out of their chair. 

“So you aren’t going to give us anything about it?”

Jay smiles.

“Artist, album, anything?” 

Nope.

I look down at my notebook to see a blank piece of paper. I’m bounding down the granite stairs and juggling this image in my head before I write it down. True to what I feel? True to what the song is? What does being true even mean? How can I know what’s true if… 

I push away the thought spiral as I open the door to outside. My pocket vibrates when I walk onto the sun soaked Quad. It’s her. She’s been ignoring my texts and calls and letters since May. Maybe she finally wants to talk. 

— — —

“Because you never listen that’s why” 

“What the fuck do you mean I don’t listen?” 

“ I’m done with this.” 

I don’t fucking listen? You don’t. Fuck off. I can’t say any of this before she hangs up. 

The rain is somewhere between a drizzle and a mist. The haze hangs around the wet bark of oak and pine trees as their leaves drip the moisture that’s been falling all afternoon and night. I make my way on the bounding path in front of me, kicking away the leaves that cake the forest floor as I readjust my headphones. The gray sky is kept lit by street lights in the distance. The lights illuminate the arboretum enough to see the outline of cars as they slide down University boulevard. 

I’m too sober for this shit, I think. On a damn Tuesday for all things. Doesn’t she know I’m still in college? All the damn papers and homework and shit I got to do. The fucking gall . The fuck did I ever see in her? 

I crest a small hill and, when I reach the top, I’m greeted by a sea of gravel. Its coiled path brings the eye towards the middle, where a small boulder that stands 2 feet high holds guard. I walk over the coil to the middle. 

Our first “date” was a  walk around these woods. I wonder if I’m being too hard. I wonder if she’ll come back. I wonder if I’ll be able to forgive myself. I wonder if she’ll do that.  If I just…

Need 2 by Pinegrove comes on over my earbuds. The lyrics start playing as I watch the moon peak out of the clouds. 

I’m out

There’s nothing here to care about

What’s that sound

What’s that song about

It’s nothing worth me sayin’ aloud

So then why do I seem to

Need to?

Then why do I seem to

Need to?

As the song ends, I look down to my surroundings. I pull my headphones out of my ears, slide my hood back to expose my face and head. I let the emotion roll over my shoulders and the mist sit in my hair. I close my eyes and soak it all in. All of it.

I’m not sure how long I was there. But I left when I felt it was long enough. The assignment can wait till tomorrow.