Steven had spent most of the past three days in the car with his young family. It was his wife’s idea; she thought a road trip would be fun. They packed up the old Chevy on a clear Sunday morning in July and headed out for the Canadian border. Thanks to limited bathroom breaks, they would make it to Niagara Falls before dark tomorrow. This gruelling pace, however, was not popular with the wife and kids.
As they sputtered down the abandoned interstate, Steven caught a glimpse of his son in the backseat. At four years old, he had already mastered the use of his mom’s iPad, and was happily tapping away at the luminous screen. His one year old sister sat next to him, strapped into her car seat and sleeping peacefully. In the front seat, Steven’s wife was still ignoring his glances. In retrospect, he probably should have allowed the family to stop at the stupid “largest ball of yarn” she wanted to see so bad. The cold shoulder was really starting to get to him.
“That’s the fifth cross we’ve passed this hour” she said, finally breaking her silence. Steven had noticed this too. It was actually the seventh white cross they had passed, each one attached to a tree on the side of the road. Some of them had a person’s name painted on, and some were adorned with flowers. “Strange coincidence, I guess,” he replied. It seemed quite odd to him though. The rural road wasn’t well lit, but it was straight as an arrow. How could so many people have crashed into the woods?
His unfocused gaze remained steady on the forest surrounding the interstate as he pondered this question. The air was fresh here, full of life, he thought inattentively. The trees flew past his car with a hypnotic irregularity. In the dark of night, the woods were covered in a milky blackness that his headlights couldn’t pierce. The darkness was actually quite beautiful , he thought. The trees reached out to the road as if they were embracing the car as it drove by. A large oak tree stood some 100 yards in front of them. The tree was calling to Steven as if they were old friends. He had never been here before, but this tree felt like home.
With a sudden burst of clarity, he swerved the car off the road, directly towards the old oak tree. His wife’s screams did little to curb his determination as he pushed the accelerator to the limit. A strange smile crossed his face just as the front bumper collided with the tree. “This is a good place to rest,” he said to himself. With a loud crash, the car was nothing more than a pile of rubble, soon to be another white cross lining the lonely road.
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Credits to: ColinPNewman
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