WORD ON THE STREET #3
Word on the street, dark days are coming to Raintown. Maybe it’ll be a gradual slide, or possibly it’ll happen all at once. Like the way storms whip up from out of nowhere. One day, you’ll notice you’re stepping further into darkness. Stumbling down alleyways leading nowhere. Climbing up fire escapes to rooftops where there’s no exit stairs. Neon lights don’t shine as bright, stars seem smudged over. Darkness grips onto your sense of self – feeding you misleading stories and misdirections. Next thing you know, you’ve fallen in with questionable company. Sprawled in the backseat of a stolen car, glancing at a torn map of Oregon. Hurtling down the freeway to a destination known as Lost and Found. A part of you knows things could’ve turned out in better ways, where you’re living through better days. Some nights it feels as if your entire world has been replaced with lost wanderers, speaking a false and faulty language – from a forgotten slice of history. Now’s not the time to count on a coin toss, or even a hundred to one odds on a sure thing. This is the moment when you trust your nerve, your guts, and an unwavering inner compass you’ve only misplaced for a while. These are nights when dreams become plans, dead ends flow out onto expressways, and roadblocks evaporate as the darkest hour leads you to a sanctuary. While you haven’t rolled onto the off-ramp to contentment, you’ve found yourself on a side street adjacent to serendipitous connections. You can tell new beginnings are out there. Especially when your senses are turned on high. You start walking toward glowing city lights in the distance. And they’re calling your name.
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