Thursday, March 28, 2019

Night Vision

     They say you don't see them unless you're looking (which is true). Most of the time, you also don't see them even if you are looking. But one chance accident and your entire attitude changes. Suddenly, you are pressing the side of your face into the window, trying to watch both sides of the road and the middle at the same time. The glass is cool against your cheek, but you sit up, eyes darting left and right like a pendulum clock, moving more sharply than you need to. Stands of dark, secretive trees seem to run toward you like death itself.
     You try to comfort yourself. This happens to most people only once, and not usually so close to the city. It's working until you spot it: a slip of white, a wide mass where there should be only winter-bald trees, branches moving and bending in ways branches should not. You break hard, but not to a full stop. It's not in the road, but there are others nearby. There are always others.
     You spy more of them all the way home, sometimes real, sometimes cruel imposters. Trash bags, mailboxes, piles of lumber. But plenty, too, that are true. Shadowy, hulking figures, biding their time, choosing who to spare and who to strike seemingly at random. If you are lucky, you'll know them by their green, reflective eyes. If this were a fairy tale, perhaps they'd pass judgement on us: who is just, or kind, or wise?
       Maybe this is a fairy tale, a modern morality play on the virtues of choosing a safe, reliable vehicle. Maybe it's about being present in the moment, spotting for danger together rather than looking down at our own personal entertainments. Maybe it's a statement on the inevitability of fate. But like fate or luck or opportunities, you'll never see them coming if you're not looking.


Presented without context. Is it too vague? Is it clear what I am talking about, or do I need to be more concrete?


2 comments: