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jasonandrewThis is another one of my Highway West stories for my Friday WIP.
"The Horses' Thunder Down in the Valley Below"
by Jason Andrew
The scenery passed by the window in a series of colors; dark green changed to yellow and then brightened to orange. A sweet breeze that smelled of leaves and rain blew through the old brown 1977 Dodge Tradesman. Martin Carver lounged in the passenger seat with his snakeskin boots resting on the cracked dashboard. A burned out Pall Mall twisted in his mouth while he cradled an old Fender cradled in his lap like a baby. He plucked at the strings sharply trying the same melody over and over.
Nathan Carver glanced over credulously at the old man. “Seriously? You’ve been trying that same chord for fifty miles.”
Martin took a long drag of the last of his cigarette and then flicked out the stub through the window. He coughed. It was deep nasty wet cough powerful enough that he pulled his legs down to the floor and doubled over. The old man cleared his throat and then spat the phlegm out the window. He continued the conversation pretending that nothing had happened. “The lessons of Sir Jimmy are long and difficult, but worthwhile. Some folk believe that the precise musical note can literally melt panties.”
Nathan nerviously placed his long hair back behind his ears. “Some things just don’t get better with age, old man. Don’t you think it’s about time you settled down? Live a little heathier?”
Martin lit another cigarette and continued his playing. “I have time enough to get the job done. Still have some traveling to do. What’s this gonna do kill me quicker? Besides, who else is gonna teach you?”
The young man scoffed. He was used to excelling at whatever he put his mind to do. How could he learn something when he didn’t even understand what was expected of him? “I don’t see how visiting the Belhaven Museum of freaky jars filled with dead babies and the world’s largest set of chest drawers is gonna teach me magic?”
“The world’s full of magic, Nate. Just need to know how to look at it. That’s the whole point of the Highway West.” His uncle shifted chords playing a slow-beat blue melody. “It’s a spiritual walkabout. See how the world looks and what signs you get from it.”
"The Horses' Thunder Down in the Valley Below"
by Jason Andrew
The scenery passed by the window in a series of colors; dark green changed to yellow and then brightened to orange. A sweet breeze that smelled of leaves and rain blew through the old brown 1977 Dodge Tradesman. Martin Carver lounged in the passenger seat with his snakeskin boots resting on the cracked dashboard. A burned out Pall Mall twisted in his mouth while he cradled an old Fender cradled in his lap like a baby. He plucked at the strings sharply trying the same melody over and over.
Nathan Carver glanced over credulously at the old man. “Seriously? You’ve been trying that same chord for fifty miles.”
Martin took a long drag of the last of his cigarette and then flicked out the stub through the window. He coughed. It was deep nasty wet cough powerful enough that he pulled his legs down to the floor and doubled over. The old man cleared his throat and then spat the phlegm out the window. He continued the conversation pretending that nothing had happened. “The lessons of Sir Jimmy are long and difficult, but worthwhile. Some folk believe that the precise musical note can literally melt panties.”
Nathan nerviously placed his long hair back behind his ears. “Some things just don’t get better with age, old man. Don’t you think it’s about time you settled down? Live a little heathier?”
Martin lit another cigarette and continued his playing. “I have time enough to get the job done. Still have some traveling to do. What’s this gonna do kill me quicker? Besides, who else is gonna teach you?”
The young man scoffed. He was used to excelling at whatever he put his mind to do. How could he learn something when he didn’t even understand what was expected of him? “I don’t see how visiting the Belhaven Museum of freaky jars filled with dead babies and the world’s largest set of chest drawers is gonna teach me magic?”
“The world’s full of magic, Nate. Just need to know how to look at it. That’s the whole point of the Highway West.” His uncle shifted chords playing a slow-beat blue melody. “It’s a spiritual walkabout. See how the world looks and what signs you get from it.”