Drag

Blood pounding in his ears, Raad's hand clawed at the cold metal of the gear knob, shifting hard into third. The engine howled with a deafening din and lurched forward, pressing him into the hot leather of his seat. Tires chewing the tarmac, Raad's ruby red Mustang, growling its V8 tenor, tore into the chilly November night.

Not to be outdone, Taha cackled while twisting the valve of the blue cylinder nestled at his side, unleashing nitrous-oxide to course through the pipes of his venomous green EvoX. Thirstily sucking in gallons of oxygen, the Mitsubishi chased after the glowing red embers of Raad's taillights.

Neon flames sputtering from the exhausts, Taha pulled level to the roaring Mustang and peered with eyes screaming from illicit chemicals at Raad staring laser-straight ahead, face contorted with concentration.

Too much is on the line, Raad agonized through gritted teeth. Slamming his heavy boot heal down till the pedal clanged against the metal floor, his crimson beast bellowed with hot rage and inched its nose ahead of the turbo screeching machine barreling alongside it.

The flickering lights of the intersection came closer at a sickening pace. With the end of the grueling trial in sight, Raad's knuckles whitened as his grip tightened around the steering wheel. Clenched jaw set in silent prayer, he willed the Mustang to go faster, just a bit more faster.

Taha's eyes flashed to the rising threat. His drug addled body twitching with every slight movement, a guttural lament escaped his throat.

Sensing victory drawing nearer, the Mustang thundered louder, a pack of rabid hounds under the hood, maws foaming, eager for the kill. Raad's vision tunneled until he could only see the fulgurating traffic lights. Tasting the rising bile, his mind blackened to a singular purpose: winning tonight.

Blaring white lights from his left snapped him out of his war-trance, and Raad just caught a split-second glimpse as the massive pickup truck smashed into the side of the Mustang.

We Roam

Sunday blues.

Home felt like a house when we grabbed the keys and made our way down the winding staircase into the brisk October.

Vespertine sounds greeted us as we took in the welcoming darkness. We were delinquents in a modest neighbourhood.

Draped in PJs we all but ran to the car. 

Keys in the ignition. A moment's hesitation.

"Just drive," she said.

The V8 roared to life, lights illuminated the ashen asphalt, we took off, burnt rubber left hanging in our wake.

The roof pulled down, the wind weaved through our hair and stung our eyes. Refreshing, reinvigorating.

She pushed in a CD, drums and electric guitars sprang to life from the speakers and I squeezed the accelerator, putting more distance between us and the rest of the reality.

I laughed. Everything weighing me down now a halfbaked vapour drifting away in our slipstream. She smiled, eyes closed, making my heart do the two-step.

We were free. We were moving. Fast. 

Time lost meaning in the din of motor and music, we drove aimlessly, the empty roads a heaven-sent. 

Nothing but endless skies above us, she raised her arms, embracing the universe. We were lost in blissful detachment; nothing mattered but here and now and us.

A hilltop park beckoned us. Stationary wheels did not stay our spirits. We needed to be loud.

But speaker-fueled ambience was unbecoming. She grabbed her guitar from the backseat. 

Copper strings strummed the still air. The universe hummed along.