The Journey by Elizabeth McGarty-Wood
Stumbling from the Spotlight Club.
Heads swirling and filled with eclectic culture.
We slip our way back to the car,
on slick shiny pavements, thick with autumn leaves.
Locks plip open.
We slide inside the frost interior.
Frank takes the wheel and off we roar.
Windows steaming as our bodies heat the air.
Trying to negotiate the correct route, not as easy as it seems
as we bumble through unfamiliar housing estates.
Thrusted airborne over speed bumps.
Finally getting our bearings through the help of the Google minx,
we traverse dark country lanes.
Frank navigates the claustrophobic high hedge bound tracks fearlessly.
Min beams on, ricocheting round sharp bends,
lights bucking and bouncing.
Approaching the entrance of a derelict barn Frank slams on the brakes
and swiftly extinguishes the lights.
We all stiffen as he fumbles in his pocket.
Voice shaking Susie asks Frank, “What’s happening?”
With a cry of delight, he plunges forward,
winding down the driver’s side window.
“Look,” he exclaims with delight, “a Llama in the field,”
and craning his neck further, “look at the stars, they are so twinkly.”
A collective sigh of relief is exhaled,
expunging visions that our moments are numbered.
A jittery burst of laughter fills the car.
“You frightened us Frank, I thought we were goners,” shuddered Susie.
“I was convinced we were in a scene from the Hitcher.”
As laughter bubbles and swirls in the vehicle,
smirking, Frank activates the door’s deadlocks.
“Really?” he said turning towards the ominously opening barn doors.