Headlights

There’s something about the way the headlights illuminate the road ahead that sends a shiver down your spine. They’re too bright. Too artificial. They only allow you to see a few feet ahead of yourself, like the darkness ahead is running away from the yellow beams chasing after it. It bends around the automobiles barreling down the road and pounds on the windows, begging to be let in, but still keeping secrets hidden in the feet in front of you. It doesn’t seem like real life, the edges of the road erased along with the forest surrounding it, erasing all the familiarity you had with the road. The asphalt bleeds into the overbearing blackness and joins it, morphing into a vacuum broken only by your obnoxious headlights. Those two bright rays disrupting the new, silent world created by the night. A world you’ve never been invited to be a part of. Maybe that’s why it scares you, because you’re the one out of place here. The world has gone to sleep, but you’re still wide awake. And your high beams are bringing light to where darkness deserved to be.