from my story book Paradox of fiction
Whatever I do, it’s wrong. Even doing nothing, I manage to mess it up. Choosing the lesser wrong? Still wrong.
Yeah… I’ll leave early in the morning, before anyone wakes up. I’m an early riser anyway. If nothing gets in the way, I’ll be back by five. Maybe they’ll understand. We’ll see. Or maybe I’ll oversleep and end up screwing it all up anyway.
Despite his nerves, he managed to fall asleep.
He pried his eyes open, struggling to focus on his watch. Damn it, I overslept, he thought. Am I really going blind now?
0:30… Yeah. Half past midnight.
Should I? Shouldn’t I?
The house was silent, everyone dead to the world. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and crept downstairs. By the time he reached the bottom step, his mind was made up.
Pants, sweatshirt, jacket, shoes—and he was standing outside.
Shit. Back in for the car keys.
Back to the car. Quietly opening the door, switching off the lights. Quietly shutting the door. Starting the engine. Immediately silencing the stereo.
He’d gotten home late last night, so the windshield hadn’t had time to freeze over. He started the car and rolled down the hill at low revs, keeping the noise to a minimum.
It’s so damn quiet.
Two hundred meters down, at the bottom of the hill, he turned the car around and passed his own house. It was just another vehicle rolling through the sleeping town.
I need to be back as quickly as possible. Which route?
Only one was maintained in the winter.
I’ll risk it. All in. Risk of getting caught, risk of the route, risk, risk, risk.
Four cigarettes in the pack. Four. They’d have to do.
He lit the first one.
The road was riddled with tracks. He had to be careful not to scrape the undercarriage.
It’s doable. If it doesn’t snow for a few more days, most of this will melt away.
Fuck. Deer. Their white tails reflected the headlights like tiny glowing hearts.
Gotta stay sharp.
The unmaintained road wasn’t fast, but he made it through. 0:40. The rest is on the main road. Safer.
The first cigarette butt flew out the window.
There were no cars. Am I the only one awake?
Miles later, a truck in the opposite lane switched off its high beams. Thanks.
He lit the second cigarette.
The road was clear, and he picked up speed. Just avoid the wildlife.
He took the turn. This is it. No delays. Stop. Drop it off. Get out.
He arrived.
Leaving the engine running, he turned off the lights.
Shit. It’s too big. It won’t fit. Idiot. What are you even doing here?
He pushed. The soft parts gave way with a sound. 1:00. Done.
If someone’s watching, this’ll be all over the evening news.
He climbed back into the car.
Backing out with the lights off. Whatever happens now, he couldn’t change it.
If I hadn’t done it? You forgot. You did it. Moron. Just for fun. Like. Dislike. Mistake? Everyone screws up.
Third cigarette.
A song. Riders on the Storm.
No need to keep it on repeat.
After the song, he switched off the stereo.
The same route back.
The film rewound.
Turning off the lights, he parked. Turned off the engine. Quietly shut the car door.
1:30. Back into my slippers. Back to reality.
The fourth cigarette.
I’m an idiot. There’ll be hell to pay anyway.
An apple. A Snickers bar.
Nothing changes.
Shoes off, jacket off, pants, sweatshirt—back into bed, trying to sleep.
Rain?
No. Pouring buckets.
Dreaming. A parallel world.
He smiled.
“Goodnight, my lady.”
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