Under a blanket of stormy skies, no one would take notice of the dark sedan parked on the roadway. Nor, would anyone care that a thick veil of cigarette smoke vented through the smallest of openings from the driver and passenger windows. Claiming minutes of somewhat precious life, the synthetic clouds violated biological functions to decay with its dark haze. Vinyl seating and plastic components lie stained in the golden hue; an oily glaze of the same tint coated the interior’s glass.
The sole occupant peered out at a sprawling community through the rain-splattered windshield. Living and breathing bodies of somewhat lifelessness materialized, albeit, out-of-focus. No one would notice or care that thick veils of despair claimed years of life with little hope of prosperity, while helpless beings drifted along; appearing through the transparent droplets, they clung to some fashion of existence, to one another like a life-sized DNA strand.
The continued rainfall made it next to impossible to watch as further events unfolded. Confined to the small space, the air inside had turned muggy and overcome by the hazardous stench. Combined with 100 percent humidity, a convenient fog of obscurity formed, overwhelming the tiny cabin.
A key turned and the dash came to life.
Luminescence from brightly lit displays outlined a male passenger. He sat, lurking from his comfort as the cast of many drifted by, unaware of an ongoing assessment. Evenly spaced across the vehicle’s width, four tiny louvered vents forced lukewarm air out, in an attempt to scatter the chaos.
The sound of wipers ruptured the semi-silence, thin rubber blades quickly restoring the view to the outside, only to fade into another mass of decay shortly thereafter. Thirty seconds or so later, the events repeated themselves. Over and over again, the timing was easily remembered, forging an eerie tempo from within.
It was this likening of two distinct, yet opposing forces that mimicked the co-existence between injustice and absolution and the mastery that came with it. Yes, he thought, these are the souls of the majority. The continuing re-enactment that even the deepest of sleep would not suppress. Slumber would never be a sustained opportunity to refresh or erase but, an insignificant period from which to dawn a new cover-up, a façade for public observation.
A key turned and all was quiet, as shadows replaced the outline, the fogginess restored once more.
Sometime later, he surmised with certainty, the choirs of jurisdiction would begin to move into position, fanning and asserting their righteousness, inquiring into the latest debut of unrighteousness and pain. Fiery mists of red and blue would watch as shadowy figures danced about from an authoritative parade of rituals.
A hierarchy was evident: those moving and running about continuously were much like cattle, herding out to pasture; they were perceived as the lesser forms. Then, there would be those standing together, observing, occasionally crying out, and seeming god-like. Sitting high on their self-proclaimed totem pole of command, they ruled amongst themselves and their subordinates. Taunted by success, they were secretly fed on by the grazing herds.
He shook his head. Like the others, this version would most assuredly be an outrage, possibly bringing grown men to their knees. Meaningless, an unknown would ‘paint’ a most gruesome picture, telling stories never quite clear to a novice outsider with an endless number of explanations and interpretations awaiting the accomplished insider. Left behind was the epitome of hopelessness, a final draft for everyone to see: the sake of humanity clinging to the most unfashionable existence of all.
A curtain of darkness, unfortunately, would help to conceal the many nuances and elements that guided an even darker masterpiece: color, form, and style, to name just a few. The creator, an artist would depart well before the red carpet was unveiled, making it too easy for critics to point fingers while discussing expression and technique in hushed voices and accusing tones.
Whether tonight, tomorrow, or maybe days from now, those charged with exposing, investigating, locating, arresting, trying and ultimately closing out the terror would need to remain objective in each unfolding circumstance. It was not open to interpretation. It was as simple as that.
Unfortunately, it would be ‘first light’ before the canvas was ready for display. Thus, closure remained a ways off.
Time passed. As rain continued to fall, developments occurred, undergoing minor changes here and there, while cascading scenes pulled in and out of visibility. Fatigue set in, weighting limbs and weakening eyelids. Restlessness flared along with the unsettling of emotions. Deep and controlled, his breathing spawned lucid images in full color, panoramic in every detail. Except, there was no time for that…
A key turned and the engine came to life.