/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.1392991]

you like my story so far?

I remember the night that you, me, Kenny, and Reyna drove to the Observatory. It was completely desolate. There was not one car on the winding road up the mountain, no lights in the parking lot. The short walk up the dirt path into the Hollywood Hills was very dark. Every rustle in the bush was an animal laying in wait, every strange sound a prowler ready to pounce. Whenever we talked we spoke in whispers because it seemed right. You put your hand in mine and it was sweaty. But what I remember more than the darkness, more than the tension, was the peace.

From here, the city was silent. Honking horns, tamale guys shouting, and obnoxious radio commercials blaring out of car windows were inaudible. All I could see were golden lights from every side; from the ocean to the skyline to the black hills behind me. A Tuesday in April after nightfall, a warm night, and the dread of having to go to school the next day would not leave me. I wished I could have been like you, eighteen, a high school dropout with parents that never asked anything.

As we walked up I thought about how we looked to an outsider. People would wonder how we met, how we all could be connected. You, tall, with your buzzed head and hazel eyes and lighter complexion; Kenny, short, fat, with a rat tail and a wifebeater, "Fuck a bitch" tattoo on his neck and women and crosses and animals crawling up each arm; Reyna, uncomfortably sexy with her slim fifteen year old body, green eyes and streaky burgundy hair; and me. We sat down, sparked the blunt, hit it a couple times, and walked back down as fast as possible. We left them in the parking lot and drove around the curb. I watched their silhouettes blend into the nightfall.

[Anonymous No.1392992]

As soon as we parked we slid the front seats forward (yours was touching the steering wheel, mine the glovebox) and went to the back. Every time we did it my stomach dropped like I was on a rollercoaster. I felt like it was somebody else doing these things, not me. I imagined my spirit, my true self hovering, pressed against the roof of the van, watching my real body underneath you. You stared in my eyes and finished quick like always. I was your first, and this was the third time we did it. We laid there for a minute and you stroked my hair and smiled. Then a light.

There was no gradual buildup, no flashing of headlights or taillights or rumbling of tires on gravel or anything, just a piercing light that illuminated the scene instantly. You didn't have a chance to scramble to pull up your pants. It was really unfair in hindsight. The knocking on the window followed two seconds later. And that was the beginning of the end.

[Anonymous No.1392998]