Signs

Warm sodium light.

Darkness

Warm sodium light.

Darkness.

The light and darkness moves like tides on an beach, pushing and pulling on each other outside of the side windows of a black Toyota.

Icara's focus remains on the road ahead of her. Her grip on the steering wheel tightens as her eyes breezily gaze to her left and right before sharply shifting to the black road illuminated by the golden headlamp. The drive back to her house was nothing short of ordinary . Thirty minutes, no more, no less. Nine-forty-five is when she finally reached the parking garage of her apartment. There were about three street lights and ten street signs, maybe a stop sign here or there if she decides to take a longer trip back home. All to avoid the same repetitiveness. Therapy. Work. Pills then home.

The same looks of pity and the same looks of contentment .

Icara's car comes to a stop as she sees the neon red octagon.

Turn back.

She blinks once and the words return to STOP.

That couldn't have been right, or even real, right? Icara argues with herself internally.

Perhaps she was simply hallucinating. Maybe she'd been off her meds for a little too long. Besides, a stop sign that said help is definitely not something that sane, well-adjusted people see. Icara foot taps the gas and the car follows her command. The road begins to curve after only a few minutes. Icara's throat tightens at the sight of a street sign, neon yellow with a black curved arrow. The symbol and color dominating her senses.

We can see you. A warning , a sickening warning which twists Icara's stomach like Twizzlers. Icara follows the sign's direction and her vehicle follows with a soft twist of her steering wheel. She doesn't see that. The sign was a turning sign. It was just a simple turning sign. Synapses firing to find some type of explanation for the what she saw. The millisecond her gaze lands on the sign, it becomes normal again. Nothing too out of the ordinary. As soon as the words appear on the sign, it vanishes just as quickly.

Name five things that you know to be true

Something her psychiatrist advised in one of their meetings, something to ground her. She doesn't quite think it would be effective, but worth a try, right? Icara takes a deep breath, her palms damp from the grip of her wheel. "Five things that I know," Icara repeats to herself out loud, a mantra of sanity she sings, hoping that these signs will go away as quickly as they appear in her sight.

Five things.

"I am driving," Icara verbalizes.

One. Simple but effective. Driving is an action, a verb. She is driving home. I am performing a normal function of an adult woman, driving, just that.

But what if-

there is no what if.They are just simple signs.

Yet, her instinct acts before her own mind begins to rationalize. A sharp steer to the right causes the car to veer off of her route home. Icara's eyes lift to the traffic light, which flashes bright red. Her eyes take in the blaring red light with hunger. She can't deny it, she sees something. It's a warning, a sign from somewhere out there among the long, half-empty roads.

Then it blinks.

The red light closes its 'eye', then it opens.

It is watching her.

A dull knife scraping and cracking the shell that covers the feeble organ cowering beneath her skull . The blood of insanity pouring out, infecting the body. She wants to reach it, to each the signs, to know what it all means.

Icara slams on the gas, running past the red light. The speed meter starts ticking up. burning though her gas as the streetlights fade from view and all that's left is the yellow tent of her blinker lights. What was once trees becomes nothing but darkness. She has to know, the madness in her brain spreading though her body, infectious even to the air she breathes. The momentum of the car drives Icara into a high. She can't help but laugh.

Laughter that she couldn't control that budded up.

Laughter that cracked and wheezed.

Laugher that no longer could be hidden underneath the pills and utter delusions of normality.

She must follow it. She must follow the being who blinked; who had watched her entire life, who could see her without contentment and spite! She wants to see it!

To see the God that takes form in signs!

Stop. One of the stop signs said, that was normal. She wants to see those words again. She wants to know that she was seen, that something out there could see her. Icara ignores the warning, stepping on the gas with little regard for her life. She must see more, no, she must know more. More than the mundane life that she is forced to live in. Just a little more…just a little more…

Stop.

Once again. Another stop sign in the pitch-black open road.

"I hear you! I see you! show yourself to me! " The speed meter reaches its max. Icara's smile widens as a light overtakes her, warm and overcoming her entire soul. The eye from the void opens for her to see before there was nothing again. Darkness takes her without hesitation. A thief in the night, and it had an easy target.

The air vibrates with a high screeching, ear-piercing sound shakes hich shakes the air ruthlessly as Icara steps on the brakes. However, the momentum is faster than pure force. The thud is explosive as the tree cracks. The tree absorbs the momentum of the car. Icara jerks forward, the seat belt unable to save her as she crashes into the windshield. The glass shatters against Icara's body as she flies out. Her neck snaps in half by the sheer force of the accident. She flies for a few moments before crashing down to the grass on the side forest with a hard thud.

She lays limp. Her lifeless body bleeds; her eyes losing their light as the alarm in the car blares.

Light and darkness

Blaring noise

Light and darkness

Blaring noise

Light and darkness

Blaring noise