by I have about half an hour before choir practice starts and I've been sitting here alone for half an hour already. I'd like to get some piano playing done before I'm needed to sing, but that can wait. I'm bored. I'm going to write something, like an extract from a story. Whatever I write isn't planned out, and totally spontaneous. No matter what I come up with, I'm posting it right here! I'm not used to this keyboard so I'll probably make a lot of typing mistakes! Okay, here it goes.
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Rain tapped the windshield like nails on the side of a mug as the truck sloshed over the tarmac. The wheels raced through puddles causing the water to arch with the momentum of its interrupted rest. Despite the night sky denying all forms of light, the water glittered with the reflection of the few stars overhead. No rainbows would be seen that night. With the risk of hydroplaning, the wheels pursued their repetitive motions, urging the truck to move faster and faster down the almost empty highway. Streams of headlights occasionally streaked past the traveling vehicle, not halting in their tracks as the engine roared though the night, accelerating faster and faster. Faster and faster. Faster and faster the pistons pumped. Faster and faster the wheels turned. Faster and faster lowered the shoe on the pedal, and the car raced onwards.
Unce unce the music blared, so loud that passing cars were barely heard. The driver had little care for this world, and it seemed not much more for himself. Hot, sweet tea in one bear-like hand, an overloaded sandwich in the other, he nudged the steering wheel every so often with his elbows, trying to avoid rearing off the road. This rugged man hadn't shaved in weeks, but he had obviously eaten. Stains ran down his chin to his shirt which protruded from his bulging stomach. God knows what substance fell from his sandwich and onto his tangled beard, but he didn't bat an eye. He had a destination, and his night driving would take him there. His destination happened to be the paycheck that waited so patiently in the next city, but he wouldn't arrive until early morning.
The wipers barely dragged themselves over the glass as the rain pattered down, making its mark. Vision was blurred and mirrors were scarce. Not that the driver bothered to use them. He loved his money, and he loved his sandwich. The weather taunted him and the thunder roared with laughter. The rain and the storm were playing. They toyed with the man and his sandwich as the wind nudged the truck this way and that. But as long as his elbows still functioned, that truck would continue cruising.
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Why I thought that, I don't know, but that's all I have time for.
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Rain tapped the windshield like nails on the side of a mug as the truck sloshed over the tarmac. The wheels raced through puddles causing the water to arch with the momentum of its interrupted rest. Despite the night sky denying all forms of light, the water glittered with the reflection of the few stars overhead. No rainbows would be seen that night. With the risk of hydroplaning, the wheels pursued their repetitive motions, urging the truck to move faster and faster down the almost empty highway. Streams of headlights occasionally streaked past the traveling vehicle, not halting in their tracks as the engine roared though the night, accelerating faster and faster. Faster and faster. Faster and faster the pistons pumped. Faster and faster the wheels turned. Faster and faster lowered the shoe on the pedal, and the car raced onwards.
Unce unce the music blared, so loud that passing cars were barely heard. The driver had little care for this world, and it seemed not much more for himself. Hot, sweet tea in one bear-like hand, an overloaded sandwich in the other, he nudged the steering wheel every so often with his elbows, trying to avoid rearing off the road. This rugged man hadn't shaved in weeks, but he had obviously eaten. Stains ran down his chin to his shirt which protruded from his bulging stomach. God knows what substance fell from his sandwich and onto his tangled beard, but he didn't bat an eye. He had a destination, and his night driving would take him there. His destination happened to be the paycheck that waited so patiently in the next city, but he wouldn't arrive until early morning.
The wipers barely dragged themselves over the glass as the rain pattered down, making its mark. Vision was blurred and mirrors were scarce. Not that the driver bothered to use them. He loved his money, and he loved his sandwich. The weather taunted him and the thunder roared with laughter. The rain and the storm were playing. They toyed with the man and his sandwich as the wind nudged the truck this way and that. But as long as his elbows still functioned, that truck would continue cruising.
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Why I thought that, I don't know, but that's all I have time for.
