FIREFLY

Silhouetted mountains shifted as the car wheels rolled silently on the road. The engine was barely a murmur over the sound of the worn out rubber wheels against the tarmac, it was almost soothing, like white noise set to a minimum volume. Green eyes set on the road, he reached out for the backseat and attempted to grab a forgotten packet of cigarettes in the jungle of newspapers and opened bags of junk food. One cigarette. He slipped it into the front pocket of his shirt.

The road curved endlessly in the darkness of the valley. From the mountains the car would have seemed like lonely firefly drowning in a black sea, tracing violent curls and turns trying to escape its doom. But there was no one in the mountains to watch. There was no one. Light from the car revealed every now and then fragments of the surrounding landscape. Mighty trees standing idly by the roadside, menacing trespassers. They watched. The dense forest, a crouching beast slowly engulfing everything around it so that all was the darkness that those green eyes reflected.

He lay back in the seat and looked through the side window. Nothing. Only the path before him was illuminated by the headlights, ever rolling and twisting. He put his face in his hand momentarily and pressed his tired eyes. It hurt, his head. All his thoughts compressed. Pushing on his skull from within. Out. They wanted to get out and scream into the  mountain, so hollow and haunting. A creature tormenting him but one which he was inevitably bonded to. The dark of the valley called to him and he to it. Docile. Wearing him away so that he himself was destined to become part of it. A cage where he would not move, in fear that the very mountain would collapse under its own fragility. Himself.

Blisters erupted from his hand as he released the steering wheel and stroked his hair back. Chest dropped as he let out a long breath. Slight relief washed his face. She would know why. He thought.

The car drove off the road and into a small path that led deep into forest. At the end, a forgotten sightseeing site on the edge of a cliff. He killed the engine. Silence took over. A peaceful one, not on edge. Some time passed. First blank mind for a while now. Eyes lost in the immensity of the mountains that stretched in the distance. Now a paler green. He grabbed the guitar sat next to him and a bundle covered in newspaper and opened the car door. He knew what he had to do.

The monotonous blue light of night time filled everything that only minutes ago had been complete darkness. He went to the edge of the cliff. The guitar rang a dissonant note when the wind caressed it making the trees behind ruffle in protest. It broke into a thousand pieces as it crashed down. His face was impassive. Only looked down once. Turned around. The trees were quiet. They watched. 

Slowly he undid the bundle of newspapers which he held. His hands didn't tremble like he'd imagined. So he smiled. The papers flew into the wind and disappeared. It was heavier now. He charged it. We needn't run away. Metallic taste in his mouth. From what? The trees ruffled. Mountains leaned. A dissonant note. Instant firefly.

She muttered.

The trees. Quiet.