The engine’s screams were deafening, but I needed the extra rpms for what I was about to do next. The rpms were way above the recommended shift point, but I waited just a second longer. With van Dyk’s “Namistai” pounding into my skull from the speakers that surrounded me, I smoothly stepped on the clutch while shifting from 5th gear into 3rd, all the while tapping the accelerator to maintain the high rpms. Letting go of the clutch, I smiled as I had shifted from 5th gear into 3rd, without the slightest chirp or howl from the engine.

Sliding around the corner at over 80mph in 3rd gear was no easy task. Although its not exactly how you’re supposed to take “The Hill”, it can be done. When taking the hill at those speeds, you have to be unwavering in your decisions because some choices can cost you your life.

Rounding the bend, I could feel the suspension give a bit underneath me, due to the centrifugal force that was threatening to throw the car into the concrete divider. The 4 foot high divider ran right up the center of the highway, separating the northbound cars from the southbound cars. The tires hopped, but held onto the asphalt below me, as I flew around the bend way beyond the posted 40mph speed limit.

Coming out of the corner, I shifted up into 4th, then 5th gear again. The short stretch of highway before me could scarcely be considered a break because of the multiple 40mph corners that lay ahead. Over and over again, I double-clutched and held on as I slid through each subsequent turn.

Coming out of the 15 miles worth of twists and turns, I had made the run on “The Hill” in record time.

I shook my head and looked up to see a car full of high school kids hooting and hollering. As the light turned green, the driver stomped on the gas and they sped off. Crossing the street, I sighed and slowly pedaled my way home.

A brisk, overcast morning; silence was my only companion on my early morning stroll down the street of what is considered the “downtown” area, of the city that I grew up in. There’s something quite peaceful and relaxing about strolling leisurely along the street by yourself, watching the world slowly wake up as the day comes alive.

Being that I was one of the few souls that wandered the streets this morning, I decided to take a roundabout route, to and from home. Walking down the street, I meandered through the alleys and side streets, pausing to look into shops and stores, devoid of any of the activity that they would be experiencing as the day draws on. The closed store fronts afforded me the opportunity to gaze upon a still sleeping city. One that wouldn’t be asleep before long.

The street lights that changed from green to red and back again, were the only objects that seemed to have any life at all. They were diligently performing their assigned duties at regular intervals. Birds perched atop of those lights, peered down at the silent streets below. Soon those streets would be filled with the hustle and bustle of people, rushing off, preoccupied with their own tasks in mind.

Making a left turn, onto the last leg of my journey toward home, I took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. It was still unspoiled by the automobile exhaust fumes that was sure to fill the air soon. As I made my way down the street, I spied an attractive woman hurrying in the opposite direction, toward whatever destination she had in mind. I nodded, smiled and greeted her with a pleasant, “Good Morning”. She flashed me a brief smile and hurried on her way.

Stepping to the front door of my home, I took one last look at the world and committed to memory the tranquil peace that still hung in the air. A car roared by, snapping me out of that moment. The driver, intent on making it to work on time, didn’t even take the time to enjoy what was left of the morning.

The day had begun.

The warm, gentle breeze blew through the trees. Leaves rustled and waved to the passing animals far below. It was late spring and the weather had gotten warm. It was unnaturally warm, as if the weather had decided to skip the rest of spring and jump headlong into late-summer.

Air was clear and the sky was a bright blue. It seemed like it had been painted that way, instead of being something borne of nature. There was not a cloud in the sky. The view was so clear that you could see for miles in any direction you chose.

Laying on his side, he gazed at the greenery that stretched before him like a green canvas–draped over a textured landscape. Wisps of steam rose from the trees; the water evaporating from the leaves of the morning sun. The sun had risen from the east, behind his back, casting a warm glow that seemed to add a halo of shimmering light to everything it touched.

The scene that he saw looked at if it was wreathed in a spiritual power that he couldn’t put his finger on. The view lifted his spirits higher and he soared above all of mankind’s pettiness and flaws, at least for the moment.

Sighing with contentment, he drifted off to sleep.

It was nap-time.

We zipped along on a current of heated actions and reactions. The moments came swiftly, turning and tumbling, making sure that we were alive, as intimacy lit our souls on fire. Reckless and unsure of which path to take, we simply rushed along whatever route we were on when the rope snapped. Frustration overtook calm, and panic planted its roots of self-destruction. Strength remained with patience, but was quickly waning.

Lunging for your outstretched hand, I missed, faintly grazing those delicate fingers, as you continued to drift away from me. You plummeted deeper and deeper into that thick vapor, with me trailing right behind, narrowly out of reach. The mists swirled around us, seeming to wash by with increasing speed. My eyes darted around, trying to find a foothold, a handhold, some sort of perch somewhere, anywhere, to slow us down.

I cried out your name, but heard no response. You turned and gazed at me, eyes rapt with attention, your mouth trying to form words that one always understood, but none came. Pursing your lips, you again tried to speak words that died before they were ever given birth. The look in your eyes said it all though–something was amiss. Deep down you knew something was wrong and I knew it too. There was no way to really express what you were thinking, except for the faint tinge of sadness edging your eyes.

Somewhere along this route, we had gone too far, had crossed the line, and there seemed to be no way of going back. In the silence that enveloped us, your muted tones told me that much had changed. Resignation wormed its way into your once serene face, head shaking as if in a soundless scream. Plunging any deeper into that hopeless gloom, the murkiest of murks, and all would be lost; you would be lost to me.

Diving with fearless recklessness, I grunted and stretched with every last sinew of my being, reaching out for your hand to somehow hang onto the last few tendrils that still bound us to each other. No matter what it took, and no matter how far we fell, I would continue to strive, and we would survive.

Goonies never say die.

The steady humming of the jet’s engines had eased me onto a plane of purgatory, devoid of physical trappings. My thoughts swirled around, constructing a private mental barrier that sound and other distractions could not penetrate. Staring at the ceiling, I thought about the days following my graduation from middle school; routine days of uncertainty and doubt.

There were times when Jess’ image would flicker against the backdrop of my mind’s eye, as I routinely went about my days, casting a heavy iron-laden net over my conscience. There were moments of weakness and self-loathing, for I recalled those very last minutes of our encounter. I had lots of time by myself to ponder the things I said and wondered if I had made the right choice. I had second thoughts about getting on this plane, believing that, maybe, just maybe if I had stayed behind, things might possibly be mended.

But on the other hand, there are some things that aren’t worth salvaging. This might have been one of those times.

If I had stayed, what could I possibly do anyway? Could what we had be mended? Was there any way to piece together what we had? Maybe even a friendship? There wasn’t a day that went by where my logic and my heart refused to fight, shedding each other’s blood on the battlefield of my soul. Weighing the pros and cons turned into some sort of sickness, a torturous way to pass the time.

Nothing could be done about it now, seeing how I was 35,000 feet in the air, soaring east, on our way to France.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Lynn asked.

“Nothing really. Just stuff that happened at school before I graduated.”

“Oh, like what? Girls?” she said jokingly, as she prodded me with her elbow.

I looked over at her, and didn’t say much more, giving her pause to her familial teasing. Shrugging, I went back to staring out of the window at the skies, and the growing darkness that was equal to the growing bitterness that was taking over the space in my heart. I knew that it was supposed to be a fun, family trip, but a large part of myself refused to let me enjoy it. It would rather I suffer the constant soakings in the vat of pain that I had created.

Lynn was my favorite cousin. She was 4 years older than I was, but the closest family member to me in age, aside from my younger sister. She was well into her high school years, and since she was the only child in her own family, she was used to the older sister role in mine. Although she had my respect and love, she knew that she couldn’t push me too far. I was physically bigger and stronger than her, and I often treated her as an equal, rather than with awe and admiration.

“Yeah, some things happen this past year between me and a girl. Another guy was involved, and it’s eating me alive,” I confessed quietly.

“So, what happened?”

Long moments passed before the words slowly tumbled end over end, spilling out of my mouth like a roaring river that had been dammed up for too long. All the sadness, anger, resentment and bitterness that had been suppressed for the last few months was suddenly released in a geyser-like shower. I wasn’t really talking to her, sometimes looking out the window or looking at the floor, trying to keep myself from getting overly emotional. As I recited my story from the beginning, I filled in bits and pieces of missing background along the way. When I was finished, I sat back and sighed, looking out of the window once again. I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders and the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomache eased a bit.

Minutes passed before she leaned over and hugged me tightly, acutely aware of the pain I must have been going through. She didn’t utter a word for a long time, and just held my slumped shoulders in her arms, trying to give me as much comfort as she could. Letting go, she sat back and looked at me with a proud glint in her eye.

“I guess you’re not a kid anymore,” she said with an air of finality.

“Oh? Was I ever a kid to begin with?” I joked.

There was some truth to that, seeing how I somehow found the short cut to growing up, due to my precociousness. Unfortunately, understanding the world around me and growing up quickly didn’t mean that I was mature. My maturity came in random spurts and unpredictable bursts, which more often got me into trouble, than kept me out of it.

“Yeah, you’ll always be a kid, but I’m pleasantly surprised and proud of how well you’ve handled this whole ordeal. There might be hope for you yet.”

“Yeah, well, I understand, but it doesn’t hurt any less,” I said, choking back the sadness that still permeated my skin, like thousands of fiery needles.

“Things will get better, believe me, but try to leave it behind you, if just for this trip. You don’t want them to worry about you, if you’re moping around all the time, do you?”

“No, I guess not. Don’t want them to call home and have Mom get on my case about it.”

An announcement pulled our attention away from the conversation and directed it outside the plane. It was dark out as the wingtips grazed the topmost layer of clouds blanketing the city. They were scant and gave the well-lit city an ethereal feel, like being trapped inside of a fog machine as strobe-lights flashed all about. It was a beautiful sight to behold, the city filled with glittering lights, filtering through the clouds that surrounded the area. We had already begun our descent and spent the next 15 mins getting used to the change in cabin pressure.

A sharp jerk and squeal of the wheels told me we had touched down and we were taxiing toward the gate.

Paris; the city of love, light, and splendor.

“Bonjour, Paris, la ville de la lumière.” I muttered.

We had arrived.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, to be continued…

Inexplicable tension fills the air
Every time your presence is near
Knowing looks, glances and stares
Seems like there’s something to fear

But our hands finally part
See a sigh escape your lips
Emotions roiling, playing out in our hearts
You walk away, gently swaying hips

The past, present and future
Comes to a shadowed cross
Love and life that we nurture
Preserved within us at any cost

Road ahead shrouded in mist
The distance grows as time persists
Between us are the faint memories of a kiss
Time passes but history doesn’t dismiss

Experience gained and innocence lost
Over time we realized why we fought
Now your muscles are sore, my patience short
Its too late for us now, time for a new court