Written by Gora Shade

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100% written by a human, for humans

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For the weather enthusiasts

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Richard gripped the handles of his motorcycle, loving the soft vibrations under his palms. Driving at night was the best. No traffic to negotiate, no clouds of exhaust, and there was something beautifully simplistic about the landscape of a city, town, or countryside illuminated by nothing but the moon, stars, or muted streetlights. Better yet was getting lost. He was free on his bike—from the monotony of bills, people, and the lousy day job. Free of the boring. Free of everyone’s expectations. On his bike, he could write his stories. For a few hours every night, wishes came true, and he became the hero. Always entertaining, even if they only existed inside his head.

He followed the long country highway into the small town of Rosendale, where he slowed his speed from a comfortable 60 to a rolling 30 mph. A large wooden sign welcomed him, followed by a “Go Cardinals” sign on the small high school he passed, and a camera image warning drivers the area was under radar control. Tiny houses with low sloping lawns littered the single main street, and all was quiet, save for the bark of an agitated dog.

The town was abandoned recently for reasons unknown. But in the dark, at night, you wouldn’t think it…

Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a slow roll of thunder, as Richard came to a lonely stop light. No cars passed in either direction and the wait dragged. Just as the light turned green, rain drops began to pitter-patter on the asphalt and ricochet off his helmet.

Damn.

There was no worse time to be on a motorcycle than the start of a downpour. It made the streets slick, obscured vision, and was pretty much no fun. He drove onward, ignoring the silent seep of wet intruding into the holes of his jeans and the musty smell of soaked earth. Perhaps the storm would be a quick thing. Such a common occurrence in the summer. Brief rain could be refreshing. Too long would steal the fun and make him wish he’d bothered to zip his leather jacket all the way to his chin.

The lone hero rode through the thick of Mother Nature, thinking he had the means to tame her…

He passed a barber shop, a motor parts store, and a dentist’s office—every window dark and each parking lot deserted. After 2 a.m., even the local bar was closed. The last of the houses on the street came into view a few minutes later at the same moment the wind picked up and rain shot down in almost literal sheets. A dangerous lick of lightning illuminated the sky like day. Nowhere to stop. Streetlamps blurred as thunder followed, and nothing but countryside awaited him after the speed limit increased back to cruising velocity.

Where the road went, the hero of our story...

Touchdown at the Lucky Mart