“if only you could see”

February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 June 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 December 2009 January 2010 May 2010 June 2010 September 2010 October 2010 January 2011 March 2011 April 2011 May 2011 August 2011 August 2012 September 2012 October 2012 November 2012 August 2013 November 2013 December 2013 January 2014 June 2014 July 2014 August 2014 May 2015 May 2016 June 2016 July 2016 December 2016 June 2017 July 2017 June 2018 November 2020 December 2020 April 2021 November 2021

I always get inspired as I ride my bike home. Especially after work, when the sun is getting close to rising. The sky is getting lighter yet I can still see the distant stars and the visible planet for the season. After making my way through an apartment complex, and I get onto my "secret" road. It's not really secret, but what I experience on that road is.


It's quiet. The few sounds I do hear consist of distant cars and rushing wind. Singing insects and chirping birds. The complex isn't really familiar, but my route is, I'm positive I could feel the curves with my mind's eye. As I leave the complex, I turn onto a street that has long since lost its smooth top. The rocks beneath are exposed, making the ride a bit more textured. There is a house I pass on my left. It's hidden by trees and roses bushes. An old sign warns people against stepping foot on the property. The house is rotten, sagging like a wilted flower. I long to take a closer look, to step inside the mysterious glade that hides the house of an architectural style long past. There is much history in the grain of the wood. The no trespassing sign is faded, yet someone is still holding on to this memory. There is a ladder in front of the house. Has the owner been here recently? These thoughts fill my head as I quickly ride past. I am content in the fact that I am the only one experiencing this moment in time. None are awake around me. I selfishly take up the road. Soon the road becomes smooth again, where it was recently rebuilt. It slopes downward at this instance, and I lean forward and grin as I build speed. I stop pedaling for roughly thirty seconds, until the road levels out again. Despite the new road, there is still a vast stretch of land untouched by man on the left side. The only thing new about it is the freshly cut grass. There are metal benches installed nearest the sidewalk. There is a low hanging fog that is uniform across the field. It gives the world a dream like quality. It's pure. There are no disturbances in the fog, and I secretly long to break the spell. But I don't. I merely inhale deeply as the smell of wild flowers fills my nostrils, as it does at the same point in the road each night I ride home. On the right side of the road there is a fallen tree. Decaying as its massive bulk remains immobile, I imagine thousands of bugs are making it a home. I wonder if it is hollow, and if it isn't occupied by insects, if it would make a good home. Unfortunately, the stretch of road ends too quickly, as it usually does, and I sigh as I return to civilization. I make a left onto the sidewalk and numbly continue my ride home.

Labels: fiction junction