Structured Steel


An off season Christmas town was what we were leaving. Similar to the ones my parents would take me to when I was young. Little paths ran to small attractions while a pleasant amount of foot traffic still followed them. The night was an odd night. Gray, a dark gray, rather than a dark blue sky. It supplied a small amount of light enough to guide us through. I had a young lady with me. If I had seen a clear picture of her face at this time I’m sure dirt would have been smeared across it, and a tooth missing. Leaving, I noticed her hair was a grayish brown with a wild frizz to it.

Making a right onto the main drag, a long cement truck with it’s red and yellow caution tape tearing slightly off blocked the way. It stopped and merged halfway into my lane. I sit and take notice to how long the truck actually is just to haul cement. Other cars are beginning to pile up behind me. Their incessant honking forces me to look forward to explain why I can’t go anywhere when I see that there is plenty room for me to get through. I step on the gas to speed along, infuriated with their gestures of insult. About to pass the cement truck, the wheels begin to grow in magnitude indicating it’s getting closer to the side of my car, as he begins to merge into my lane. The road is inclining and steel frames nervously pass the windows to my right, now feeling the intensity of the pinch.  nervously. There is a weave lane coming up. The cement truck finally subsides into my mirrors and get into the lane he previously held. I continue to speed, now irritated by the people beeping, and the cement truck almost pushing me off the road. The road curves right, but the steering wheel is blocking my sight. Shifting my seat I try to get a clear view. My co-pilot, though saying nothing, is clearly as scared with my driving as I am with her quietness. I drift into the oncoming traffic lane slightly, yet she still makes no protest. Back on track, I second guess my speeding for only a second. I regain my site by adjusting my seat and begin to speed up again. I merge into the right lane to get off at the next ramp. As we take the exit the steering wheel is in my way once more. The landscape around me begins to blur as we begin to slide off the road in spirals. By the time that I have regained control we are down on a gravel road one hundred yards from the highway, and facing another car that’s up on a lift. There is no one around. It’s desolate, and devoid of any positive emotion. I look at my co-pilot frantically spinning the map to try and figure our exact location.

Fairly certain we’re somewhere we shouldn’t be, I grab the map. It isn’t easy to make sense of such a ridiculously drawn map, so I also begin to spin it. Helping with our orientation, I remain confused. A white workers van is coming down the gravel road directly off of the highway. If it had a theme song to play along it would have been deep and baritone. It would have warned of misfortune, and danger. Deep succint notes depicting the heart unsure of it’s surrounding, yet preparing for a flight for life. Knowing we aren’t supposed to be there I throw the car into reverse. At that time my co-pilot jumps from the car and begins to raise the lift the other car is on. I think her intentions are to create a greater area to hide behind, but I see through the flaws immediately. She insists that she stay there, though I warningly wave her back into the safety of the car.

Having faith that she has a plan, I drive down along the road to the fence. Steel structures fly past the left of my car. It’s as if this bridge had been constructed for miles through the same twisting of metallic muscle. Seeing the road ahead, but no way to get there, I search for an alternate. There is one opening that I could park my car in, but there’s no time for careful parking. I jam on the breaks and turn the wheel so that it is hitting rock hard against the turn stop. Successfully my car slides into the appropriate spot, which is relatively covert. The momentum still keeps the car rolling backwards, though slowly. The car itself continues to go. I put the car in drive and begin to give it a little gas to stop from hitting the other cars, yet they connect. Failure in the end. Being cautious I eye the familiar street that runs perpendicular to my car and begin formulating a plan on how to get out. Only moments pass to think on the plan before my co-pilot comes along and inspects the damage on my car. According to her the damage is too much to take with us. I, however set my sights on the vehicle I’d love to drive, and interesting bulky device that will surely get us out of the fencing. A tall red fire truck on wheels, yet with helicopter propellers.

Excitedly we get into the vehicle and bust through the gates. Lights flashing, and propellers playfully spinning we drive fantastically down the highway. Going through underpasses and being seen by everyone now is not such a bad thing. I am, however, holding the remote that only spins the propellers above, where as a buff man with a shaved head, and cut off sleeves drives the truck. His head bobs at the excitement he has to drive his baby, as he seems to be along for the ride. Playing in our new toy we happen upon a cop car that is in the foreground of multiple fire vehicles. Lights going on our vehicle it would be understandable that they would think we were coming to their aid. The police man, though confused by the device they drove, motioned for them to move through the barricade. In a panic the driver of our device turned right, away from the scene that everyone thought we would be going to. A small path with wheel marks, something of what you would find in a park way is what we found ourselves careening down. A forest and a hill to the right, and a small canal to the left, hundreds of feet above the river. It was only a few moments and a few pedestrians later before we bailed the vehicle and took refuge in a small cabin like structure over the canal. The floor boards were separated two to three feet apart. It was important to watch footing while moving about within. Still not sure what the purpose of this place was an odd sense of a past acquaintance of my co-pilot and the truck driver begins to bloom.

Three of us are in this cabin when me and my co-pilot decide it’s time for the driver to get back out into the fire drenching aerodynimc automobile and go to the scene where he was needed. He obliged and left the building. Leaving this room I stop by what looks like a horrid expression of a public bathroom. By no interest to me. I didn’t have to use the restroom at all. Instead a device within me caught on and drifted inside as if in spirit. The driver of our truck full of tatoo’s and fully naked was pleasuring himself in a vicious and tortuous manner. Finally projecting his explanation to the walls for several seconds does he realize there is a young man watching from a stall with a door. The driver reaches his arm around where the unit is usually bolted to the wall, rips the bolts out, and plunges the unsuspecting peeper’s head into the side of the wall multiple times. Blood spatters the wall before I quickly leave and leave my subconciousness in it’s darkness.

Just remembered being out on a trelice and having two groups of people that were embarking on two different sets of obstacles. There was no way to get down from this structure but to climb down four prongs of bamboo to ultimately fall into a river, or monkey bar across to a netting that seems far too uneasy to navigate. I chose the four prongs and plumbeted after what I had assumed as a grown up group of girl scouts.

Thank you,

Caleb A. Mertz


Posted on April 14, 2011, in Dreams, short prose and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: