Roadside Shrine
Here in this particular part of this vast country lay a long tradition of setting grave markers along the lost highway. These the people who have died in violent accidents. As a writer I have often stopped at these roadside shrines to the dead and witnessed dark dreams indeed. This one shrine in this short story is one I see every day, and the remnants of the story always moves through my mind. Haunting's and apparitions.
He lit his cigarette and drew the smoke deep into his lungs as he stood beside the roadside shrine. The headlights from his truck blared onto the landscape producing an eerie glow across the dried flowers that clung to the rusty steel cross. Below the cross lay a little wooden sign that read ‘Happy Birthday Stephanie Oct 30th 1970 Oct 30th 1990’.
He closed his eyes for a moment as flashes of a vehicle being struck by another formulated in his
mind.The young frail body of a woman being thrown from the violence of twisted metal, and her
lifeless form coming to rest on this hallowed roadside memorial. He took his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and flicked the butte onto the asphalt, the wind picked it up and rolled it like a fire ball down the highway and then disappeared out of site.
“Happy birthday Stephanie”
He turned and walked towards his pickup, his head turned slightly as he noticed a low ground fog drifting across the shrine. He pulled his jacket collar up tight around his neck, feeling a sudden chill
envelope him in its relentless finality. The headlights went out and the moon began to cast its blue
heaven across the dash of his truck.The ashtray wide open and full of stale half smoked filtered
cigarettes, the old vinyl along its length wrinkled and split from to many years in the direct sunlight. A small medallion stuck to its center, just above the broken radio that still sputtered and spit static on occasion form its old speaker. It was a faded photograph of the dead girl he had pulled off the roadside cross last year, but you could hardly make out her delicate features.
“Sir….Sir, are you awake?…”
He heard the voice breaking though the dark clouds of his dreams as he watched her and the small knuckle rapping on the dirty glass of the passenger window. He could not make out her features in
detail because of the moisture that collected and ran on the inside of the glass, but it was a woman,
and it looked as if she were holding a pack of some sorts. He leaned over and rolled the window
down. She had startled him, and it was apparent in his voice.
“What’s the problem?”
His eyes looked into hers then darted away in his shyness.
” Sorry to have woken you up mister, but I was hoping I could get a lift into Missoula, it's getting
pretty chilly out here.”
mind.The young frail body of a woman being thrown from the violence of twisted metal, and her
lifeless form coming to rest on this hallowed roadside memorial. He took his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and flicked the butte onto the asphalt, the wind picked it up and rolled it like a fire ball down the highway and then disappeared out of site.
“Happy birthday Stephanie”
He turned and walked towards his pickup, his head turned slightly as he noticed a low ground fog drifting across the shrine. He pulled his jacket collar up tight around his neck, feeling a sudden chill
envelope him in its relentless finality. The headlights went out and the moon began to cast its blue
heaven across the dash of his truck.The ashtray wide open and full of stale half smoked filtered
cigarettes, the old vinyl along its length wrinkled and split from to many years in the direct sunlight. A small medallion stuck to its center, just above the broken radio that still sputtered and spit static on occasion form its old speaker. It was a faded photograph of the dead girl he had pulled off the roadside cross last year, but you could hardly make out her delicate features.
“Sir….Sir, are you awake?…”
He heard the voice breaking though the dark clouds of his dreams as he watched her and the small knuckle rapping on the dirty glass of the passenger window. He could not make out her features in
detail because of the moisture that collected and ran on the inside of the glass, but it was a woman,
and it looked as if she were holding a pack of some sorts. He leaned over and rolled the window
down. She had startled him, and it was apparent in his voice.
“What’s the problem?”
His eyes looked into hers then darted away in his shyness.
” Sorry to have woken you up mister, but I was hoping I could get a lift into Missoula, it's getting
pretty chilly out here.”
Her voice seemed as if it were coming from the crackling speaker.
She smiled in the darkness, he became somewhat hesitant, but then pulled the door handle as she
evoked a warm smile. She hopped in the truck and set her bundle next to her, but she only looked forward as he started the engine, the headlights once again setting the stage across the roadside shrine.
She smiled in the darkness, he became somewhat hesitant, but then pulled the door handle as she
evoked a warm smile. She hopped in the truck and set her bundle next to her, but she only looked forward as he started the engine, the headlights once again setting the stage across the roadside shrine.
“What's that, there in front of us? Has the highway built its asphalt ribbon through a grave yard
or something?”
or something?”
Her voice sputtered with static.
The moonlight lit only half of her face, but he could see that she was fairly young and somewhat familiar as the glow almost brought a pasty white to her complexion. And it had not changed when the refracted light from the headlights brought more substance to her gentle face.
‘Yes of sorts I suppose, this highway is littered with the dead.
She turned her head and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, but she still retained a small smile.
“That is sad. But somehow it imprints the beauty of a person in their final tragedy, don’t
you think Dad?”
He held onto the steering wheel firmly as the white knuckles form in his hands and began to protrude like the tips of the snow capped mountains that surrounded them.
“I’m sorry Stephanie. I’m the one who should have died along this lonesome stretch of the highway….”
“Am I dead father?”
“Yes.”
She pulled the bundle from her side and brought it next to her chest tightly.
“And my baby, is she dead also?”
The light inside the radio dial flickered out, and the static hum ceased its volume.
Silence...
“Yes, my darling daughter….My beautiful grandchild…..Yes.”
He began to sob as she got out of the truck and walked into the beam of the headlights. Then disappeared into the shrine.
The small flashes of nightmare came back to him in its insistent violence, he was headed home on late Halloween evening, the empty bottles rolled along the floor of his car as he took the curves to fast, his blurred double vision seemed as if he were looking though the distorted glass of an empty
bottle of vodka….He took the next curve much to fast, over corrected and struck another car head on. He woke up from an extended comma and remembered only small flashes before the accident.
Faded super eight film of Stephanie walking through a bleached out colored landscape of her short
life.
The moonlight lit only half of her face, but he could see that she was fairly young and somewhat familiar as the glow almost brought a pasty white to her complexion. And it had not changed when the refracted light from the headlights brought more substance to her gentle face.
‘Yes of sorts I suppose, this highway is littered with the dead.
She turned her head and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, but she still retained a small smile.
“That is sad. But somehow it imprints the beauty of a person in their final tragedy, don’t
you think Dad?”
He held onto the steering wheel firmly as the white knuckles form in his hands and began to protrude like the tips of the snow capped mountains that surrounded them.
“I’m sorry Stephanie. I’m the one who should have died along this lonesome stretch of the highway….”
“Am I dead father?”
“Yes.”
She pulled the bundle from her side and brought it next to her chest tightly.
“And my baby, is she dead also?”
The light inside the radio dial flickered out, and the static hum ceased its volume.
Silence...
“Yes, my darling daughter….My beautiful grandchild…..Yes.”
He began to sob as she got out of the truck and walked into the beam of the headlights. Then disappeared into the shrine.
The small flashes of nightmare came back to him in its insistent violence, he was headed home on late Halloween evening, the empty bottles rolled along the floor of his car as he took the curves to fast, his blurred double vision seemed as if he were looking though the distorted glass of an empty
bottle of vodka….He took the next curve much to fast, over corrected and struck another car head on. He woke up from an extended comma and remembered only small flashes before the accident.
Faded super eight film of Stephanie walking through a bleached out colored landscape of her short
life.
My daughter was coming to pick me up at the bar.
He slammed his head against the steering wheel. But the dreams continued as he drifted through the dashboard and into the night.
