Getting Dark Now
I just realised I never posted this. Suspect it's not much good, written as it was in failing light and with failing confidence, but I don't have much else to say at the mo, so thought I may as well post it.
I feel sick.
It's getting dark now.
The house down the road has no lights on.
Well, I say road. It's not a road. It's a track, a rough track with potholes and stones and
What will I do if someone stops? I was just thinking how rubbish it is that nobody has stopped to see why the car is parked half in a ditch late on a Friday night with its hazard warning lights on, but they probably assume I'm a farm worker or some other kind of person who knows what they're doing. They probably can't even see me. For all they know, the car's empty.
And what if someone did stop? What if some bloke loomed up outside. Would I even open the door?
I keep thinking of American Werewolf in London. I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere, in a field, in the rain, in the dark.
I can see a house half a mile away, but its lights aren't on.
Anyway it's all very well bemoaning the bad Samaritans, whizzing by heartlessly in their warm cosy shells. This is the woman who only 15 minutes ago was driving through a perfectly good village, knowing full well she was going to run out of fuel at any momnent, not having a fucking clue where she was, but still preferring to drive in her own cosy shell and hope for a petrol station rather than stop and ask the woman, putting her bin out for the night, which direction to go in.
People don't put their bins out for the night. They might scratch and whine and ask to come back in again.
It's getting really dark now.
Why didn't I stop and ask? I knew how stupid I was being.
I was so pleased when I saw the sign for "Services". But all they had, according to the little icons, was beds and food.
Was I right to come off the motorway?
I feel sick.
___
I feel sick.
It's getting dark now.
The house down the road has no lights on.
Well, I say road. It's not a road. It's a track, a rough track with potholes and stones and
What will I do if someone stops? I was just thinking how rubbish it is that nobody has stopped to see why the car is parked half in a ditch late on a Friday night with its hazard warning lights on, but they probably assume I'm a farm worker or some other kind of person who knows what they're doing. They probably can't even see me. For all they know, the car's empty.
And what if someone did stop? What if some bloke loomed up outside. Would I even open the door?
I keep thinking of American Werewolf in London. I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere, in a field, in the rain, in the dark.
I can see a house half a mile away, but its lights aren't on.
Anyway it's all very well bemoaning the bad Samaritans, whizzing by heartlessly in their warm cosy shells. This is the woman who only 15 minutes ago was driving through a perfectly good village, knowing full well she was going to run out of fuel at any momnent, not having a fucking clue where she was, but still preferring to drive in her own cosy shell and hope for a petrol station rather than stop and ask the woman, putting her bin out for the night, which direction to go in.
People don't put their bins out for the night. They might scratch and whine and ask to come back in again.
It's getting really dark now.
Why didn't I stop and ask? I knew how stupid I was being.
I was so pleased when I saw the sign for "Services". But all they had, according to the little icons, was beds and food.
Was I right to come off the motorway?
I feel sick.
___
Labels: Disaster Prone
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