english,
A white 2021 Chevrolet Malibu sped on the empty streets, with only the light posts serving to aid the driver’s vision. Despite the stoic expression on their face as their speed passed over the limit, their eyes shed slow tears of the pain they went through on their recent journey, from kilometers of unfinished dues to miles of missed opportunities—opportunities they didn’t take due to their own cowardice and irresponsibility—all of which led them to this hasty steering. They were too scared to grow up, afraid to take responsibility for everything—and that’s when they crumbled.
Nothing more than just a failure, filled with too many mistakes and regrets.
Recklessly, their foot stepped on the gas causing the Malibu to increase its speed, and their sweaty hands to grip the wheel harder.
The pace of the vehicle had the driver seeing blurred golden lights and an endless road. They noticed there seemed to be no turns nor stoplights. There was only a sign showing the speed limit, and they kept on seeing it in the same place right after every kilometer. It didn’t move from its spot, making them wonder if it was an illusion made by their mind.
No, really—was it an illusion? Carved from their own aggravation? Or was it chasing them the same way their failures were?
Frustrated by these thoughts, they stepped on the gas harder just to drive away from the same sign. That thing had been giving them more anger; it felt like the sign was taunting them. A growl erupted from their throat after seeing it mocking them once more. It didn’t want them to leave, and that was the worst part. They just wanted to run away—run away from it, run away from everything!
The Malibu’s speed went up to 120 kilometers per hour. As the speed surged, the lights turned white, images blurred, and the driver didn’t see any more pavements. Instead, a dark void waited ahead. “What is that?” was the only thought they had in their mind before screaming out of fear, as their grip lost its hold on the wheel. They closed their eyes as terror seized their gut.
This was it… an end to it all.
Yet, nothing came.
No pain, no anything.
They didn’t hear the sound of their expected crash--only the sound of jovial laughter. Perplexed by this, they whipped their head up to peek through the windshield. Their sight was welcomed by warmth and youth, a school playground with sand on the ground, children on swings, and other students waiting to be picked up by their parents. It reminded the driver of freedom—freedom from dues and challenges.
Just happiness.
Suddenly, the driver saw something that caused their stomach to drop. A different scenery was outside their car—their young self was right there, making their hair stand on end. The young clone was at kindergarten age, and it was playing a game with its classmates called Agawan Base. The driver recognized this scene: the youngest memory they had of themselves. A time when the only things troubling them were the small things such as: What food were they going to eat for dinner? What was forty-one plus forty? What gift would they receive for their birthday?
But, this memory... why was it shown to them? Were they dead? Surely not—their heart was still beating faintly in their chest.
They touched their face and felt fresh tears streaming down their cheeks, and they finally broke from their stoic expression from before. They became vulnerable when they watched their young self laughing joyfully. They felt a sense of wanting to go back to that state, of wanting to grow backwards and turn back time to do everything they wanted. Cowardice was what they felt next, realizing how scared they were of facing their own adult life.
Why couldn’t they move forward? What was holding them back?
“My immaturity held me back,” the driver sobbed. They held their chest as it throbbed in pain from the harsh truth. They gripped the steering wheel again, bumping their head on it, tasting the bitter reality they had put on themself.
They glanced back at the memory playing through their windshield, only to find the young clone facing them. It was creepy (Of course it would be! Wouldn’t you be creeped out, seeing your own self in front of you vividly?)—until the warm smile that they once owned was given to them by the younger copy for comfort.
Neither of them spoke to each other. Only awkwardness emerged from this strange atmosphere as the adult adjusted their teary sight. They weren’t sure if the younger one was trying to say something, since it started to move its mouth. No sound resonated from its throat but they could read its lips, forming a small phrase that they immediately understood.
While it was whispering, flashing white lights interrupted their staring contest. The lights covered the driver’s vision, taking the clone out of their view—and before the bright flash finally dominated their sight, they felt a tear slide down their cheek.
It was merely a second later that they woke up in a dazed state as echoing voices rang in their ears. The similar light from before was still present in their sleepy eyes, and they could hear orderly voices. The Malibu driver figured they were on a hospital bed. Words like “stable, conscious, breathing” were heard from the foreign voices. However, all they could think about was what the clone told them:
“Time to move forward. Don’t be afraid.”
The driver breathed, smiling faintly.
Literary: A Short Trip
A white 2021 Chevrolet Malibu sped on the empty streets, with only the light posts serving to aid the driver’s vision. Despite the stoic expression on their face as their speed passed over the limit, their eyes shed slow tears of the pain they went through on their recent journey, from kilometers of unfinished dues to miles of missed opportunities—opportunities they didn’t take due to their own cowardice and irresponsibility—all of which led them to this hasty steering. They were too scared to grow up, afraid to take responsibility for everything—and that’s when they crumbled.
Nothing more than just a failure, filled with too many mistakes and regrets.
Recklessly, their foot stepped on the gas causing the Malibu to increase its speed, and their sweaty hands to grip the wheel harder.
The pace of the vehicle had the driver seeing blurred golden lights and an endless road. They noticed there seemed to be no turns nor stoplights. There was only a sign showing the speed limit, and they kept on seeing it in the same place right after every kilometer. It didn’t move from its spot, making them wonder if it was an illusion made by their mind.
No, really—was it an illusion? Carved from their own aggravation? Or was it chasing them the same way their failures were?
Frustrated by these thoughts, they stepped on the gas harder just to drive away from the same sign. That thing had been giving them more anger; it felt like the sign was taunting them. A growl erupted from their throat after seeing it mocking them once more. It didn’t want them to leave, and that was the worst part. They just wanted to run away—run away from it, run away from everything!
The Malibu’s speed went up to 120 kilometers per hour. As the speed surged, the lights turned white, images blurred, and the driver didn’t see any more pavements. Instead, a dark void waited ahead. “What is that?” was the only thought they had in their mind before screaming out of fear, as their grip lost its hold on the wheel. They closed their eyes as terror seized their gut.
This was it… an end to it all.
Yet, nothing came.
No pain, no anything.
They didn’t hear the sound of their expected crash--only the sound of jovial laughter. Perplexed by this, they whipped their head up to peek through the windshield. Their sight was welcomed by warmth and youth, a school playground with sand on the ground, children on swings, and other students waiting to be picked up by their parents. It reminded the driver of freedom—freedom from dues and challenges.
Just happiness.
Suddenly, the driver saw something that caused their stomach to drop. A different scenery was outside their car—their young self was right there, making their hair stand on end. The young clone was at kindergarten age, and it was playing a game with its classmates called Agawan Base. The driver recognized this scene: the youngest memory they had of themselves. A time when the only things troubling them were the small things such as: What food were they going to eat for dinner? What was forty-one plus forty? What gift would they receive for their birthday?
But, this memory... why was it shown to them? Were they dead? Surely not—their heart was still beating faintly in their chest.
They touched their face and felt fresh tears streaming down their cheeks, and they finally broke from their stoic expression from before. They became vulnerable when they watched their young self laughing joyfully. They felt a sense of wanting to go back to that state, of wanting to grow backwards and turn back time to do everything they wanted. Cowardice was what they felt next, realizing how scared they were of facing their own adult life.
Why couldn’t they move forward? What was holding them back?
“My immaturity held me back,” the driver sobbed. They held their chest as it throbbed in pain from the harsh truth. They gripped the steering wheel again, bumping their head on it, tasting the bitter reality they had put on themself.
They glanced back at the memory playing through their windshield, only to find the young clone facing them. It was creepy (Of course it would be! Wouldn’t you be creeped out, seeing your own self in front of you vividly?)—until the warm smile that they once owned was given to them by the younger copy for comfort.
Neither of them spoke to each other. Only awkwardness emerged from this strange atmosphere as the adult adjusted their teary sight. They weren’t sure if the younger one was trying to say something, since it started to move its mouth. No sound resonated from its throat but they could read its lips, forming a small phrase that they immediately understood.
While it was whispering, flashing white lights interrupted their staring contest. The lights covered the driver’s vision, taking the clone out of their view—and before the bright flash finally dominated their sight, they felt a tear slide down their cheek.
It was merely a second later that they woke up in a dazed state as echoing voices rang in their ears. The similar light from before was still present in their sleepy eyes, and they could hear orderly voices. The Malibu driver figured they were on a hospital bed. Words like “stable, conscious, breathing” were heard from the foreign voices. However, all they could think about was what the clone told them:
“Time to move forward. Don’t be afraid.”
The driver breathed, smiling faintly.
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