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Title: Lost Highway No ratings, no keywords, no spoilers and no porn. *Narcolepsy - an extreme tendency towards excessive sleepiness, in which sleep onset is accompanied by dreaming (1993 OED)* There's long roads running through the badlands of America. Every road has it's travelers, every traveler has their tale. Juvaun woke up on the dusty edge of the asphalt road stretching out into forever one way, and into nowhere the other. He looked around, bleary eyed, his eyes stinging from the sun and the dust that was blowing around him, a meter or so off the ground. He wiped his eyes and sat more upright. As he yawned himself awake, he picked the last cigarette from an empty packet and lit it with the only match left in the box. He crumpled the box in his hand and flicked it out into the sandy desert. He doubted anyone would catch him for littering. He held the Marlboro between his rough lips and sucked deeply. It helped. A little. The sun was directly overhead. Must be about midday. Juvaun had lost his watch somewhere down the road. He couldn't remember when and he couldn't remember where. But then he didn't really care; not anymore. He looked up and down the highway, hoping that there would be someone coming. Some way to catch a lift. But he could sit here all day and night and not see anyone. No point in looking for something that wasn't there - someone had told him that once. But he didn't feel like getting moving again; not just yet. He'd been walking for as long as he could remember - he wasn't sure where he was going and he had no desire to remember where he had come from. He was where he was and he would be where he would be - a simple and basic philosophy. It did him okay. The clouds were gathering overhead - billowing into huge cascades of ivory white and gray, sandwiching the sky blue sky. Where the clouds hit the road, somewhere down by where the highway met with oblivion, the sky was turning darker. Foreboding. There was a storm coming. He took a final drag on his last cigarette. Done - he flicked the butt off his fingertip. It spun in the air and bounced across the road, hot ash flickering from its end, before sizzling out. It rolled a little, before stopping, a thin wisp of smoke burning it out until there was almost nothing there at all. Thunder rolled in the distance beyond the rocky outcrops at the edge of his sight. Somewhere in the wastes a coyote howled. Juvaun knew how it felt. Once upon a time a man met a woman and they fell in love. It sounded so simple when you put it in such layman's terms. But that's how it went - it was just a biochemical reaction. Love was nothing more than a collection of nerves and synapses firing, and chemicals being rushed into the bloodstream. The trigger could be anything - a person, a smell, a memory. Why that man loved that woman and why that woman loved that man never came into the equation - it didn't have to, and it always raised too many other questions. Some love was forbidden. But they did anyway. And they had a child. The first thing Juvaun could remember was the door to his room (was it *his* room? He could never be sure). Late at night - a rattling in the lock to his door. Figures coming in, all around him - hurting him, loving him - it was all mixed up. But was there really any difference? A string of homes, a string of families. None of them real - a litany of lies, always keeping him on the road. Place to place - all that was different was the room. The same aggression, the same families, the same love, the same hate, the same feeling that he never really belonged. He never really belonged anywhere. And here he was now, an orphan on the open road, and he didn't even know where he was going. When Juvaun was old enough to cry he'd been left, in a cardboard box, outside a nondescript orphanage in Washington DC. You always see the brighter side of DC - the upmarket homes, the boutiques on the main streets, the Whitehouse and the memorials. But every city has its underside. That's where they left him - underside DC. Lost and unloved in a cardboard box. Brought into the world kicking and screaming - orphaned. Damn it - that was the one word that always tugged at the heartstrings. Orphan. Poor little orphan boy. Juvaun walked along the dusty highway - no vehicles in sight. Why had his...his... he paused - surely they hadn't done nearly enough to qualify as being parents. But why had they abandoned him? He patted his pocket, and smiled for the first time in what must have been an age. As soon as he'd turned sixteen, his foster parents had given him a letter. It had been passed down the line for fifteen years - it had been written by the woman who had given birth to him and then thrown him away like a toy that has lost it's appeal. It was tattered and torn, held together with sticky tape, faded and folded. His only past. He screwed his face up at the thought - and he cursed them silently again for the life that they had given them. But... He stopped. The wind blowing was the only sound on the lost highway. Very dramatic. A dust devil whipped and curled until it met the road where it faded and died. Juvaun half expected a coyote to be watching him as he stood stock-still in the road. There was something not right. Everything looked right. Everything was in the right place - but... Without realizing that it had happened Juvaun had crumpled and fallen. His bag dropped off his shoulder and rolled a little, the contents dropping onto the road. Pages flickered from a book and rustled in the wind, lifting and gliding slightly. He lay on his side, smiling gently, as his life fell from his bag and blew away. But he was...sleeping? (why did you leave me) The question was always the same - the dream always changed. Juvaun stood what could have been an inch, could have been a mile away from the only other figure in view. (why did you leave me?) Juvaun tried to move, but the closer he got, the further away he seemed to be. Was he in the desert still? He could have been but he... he couldn't be sure. (we had no choice.) The reply the same as ever - a cool, calculated voice. A hint of sorrow - and something else. Something uglier that Juvaun couldn't place. The figure always faced away from him, never looking up. Always the same pose, not hunched, but not quite upright. head dipped to keep the face hidden. Back turned. (who are you? How could you leave us?) A different approach for this dream maybe a different answer. (I had no choice...) (and why did you leave *her?*) (...) And without even giving an answer, the figure who Juvaun could never see turned a little. Piercing eyes looking right though him. Into him. Juvaun looked at his father and saw a man he didn't know... Vultures circled overhead. The sun was still high in the sky, but the sky wasn't nearly so blue. Juvaun lay on his back, with his shoulder bag beside him on the road and smiled a little. He tilted his head to one side. A lizard moved past him on the road, scuttling so fast it was hardly in contact with the scorching tarmac. How long had he been sleeping. He cared a little now where his watch was - could have been five minutes, could have been a day. Either way he wasn't in a hurry to be anywhere. He'd been sleeping again. Damn it, he was past that. the doctors had said it was just a phase, just something he had grown out of. Narcolepsy - stress induced sometimes, but it just crept up on him. It had come over him once, in a movie theatre, and he'd been robbed. Robbed of everything in his pockets and in his wallets. He'd woken up in a hospital. No-one knew what was happening. He'd just smiled and let them pamper him, and run around like headless chickens trying to find out what was wrong with him. He'd just got out of bed and walked away. Left a note thanking them for their time. He sat up a little - and he wiped his brow for what must have been the hundredth time that day. The sweat beaded and ran down his forehead, around his face and onto the lapels of his dusty gray shirt. The gentle breeze wasn't really helping; it was still too hot out. Walking again - mid afternoon. The sun had eased back a little, giving way to the coming clouds. No rain yet. And he was awake. Not even a hint of tiredness. Maybe what had happened was just a one off. A freak accident. Only his dream haunted him. The figure had turned. That hadn't happened before. It had always been a one way street. He'd tried to get closer but then he'd always been as far away. No quarter given. But this time he'd turned, looked right through him. And he'd seen a face that he didn't recognize, but was intrinsically his own. A stranger who he was drawn to. A stranger who he'd known all his life. About this time Juvaun became aware of a growling sound on the horizon, coming from behind him. He turned and squinted shading his eyes from the sun. A glint on the horizon - barely visible in the heat rising from the roads. If he couldn't have heard it coming then he would have sworn that it was just a hallucination (he couldn't quite remember when he'd last eaten, but it was more than a day ago). A pickup truck? Looked that way. As it got closer, he stopped walking and raised his hand in the air. This seemed to make some impact, as the truck got closer, it slowed a little. There was only one person - the driver - in the vehicle. He was slowing down more and more as he neared. The brakes squealed and hissed as the truck ground to a halt a few yards away from Juvaun. He smiled - there weren't many drivers on these roads. He walked to the window and leant in. "Heading west?" The drivers accent was southern and strong. "Yeah - yeah I am." Juvaun didn't know which way west was, but it had to be away from where he was; which had to be good. "Any chance of a ride?" "Sure." The truck driver gestured to the back of the pickup. Juvaun threw his shoulder bag over and into the back, before climbing over. He mumbled a thankyou, as he lay down in the clutter of boxes and hay. The car growled again, and made a sound like a gunshot. Juvaun stretched out and closed his eyes. Suddenly, sleeping seemed so, so, right... (dream) In the highway of his minds eye Juvaun stood facing his father. (tell me) his voice was there but it wasn't coming from his lips, and it was inside his head as well as all around him. The other figure didn't seem to respond. Juvaun couldn't have even been sure that he was listening. (I loved her) Juvaun inhaled deeply - could you inhale in a dream? The figure looked up a little, avoiding eye contact. His face was weathered and gaunt as he spoke. His hands were slung deep in his pockets. (you let her leave me) there was resentment in Juvauns voice as he spoke. (there was too much at stake. I was a danger to her) Juvaun stepped a little closer. It didn't seem to do much good. (explain) (we loved you, but as long as we held you, *they* could take you from us) the figure who must have been his father looked up as he spoke. (we never wanted to give you up. it killed her in the end - there was only so much one person could take) (who were *they*) the word bothered Juvaun - who could have scared them so much they would throw away their own child? (she died for you, Juvaun) (who were *they*?) his minds voice was louder now, but there was less conviction in his words. There was something in the way his father was speaking that scared him. The figure moved closer, and try as he might Juvaun couldn't step back. (you don't need me to tell you - you already know) closer still - Juvaun could feel his fathers breath on his face. (...) he opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't. He looked into his fathers eyes. In that brief moment he understood what was being said to him. He couldn't place it, and he didn't know exactly what it meant, but it was there. That overbearing sense of truth, and loss. Without saying a word his father extended a hand - his eyes said all that he needed to. Juvaun reached out to take his hand; it seemed like the right thing to do. But... Someone shaking him - he reached but the figure was fading into a misty haze. There was still something there, a figment of his mind fading away. (the truth *is* out there) he caught the faintest glimpse of a smile as his father spoke and vanished into the blackness that was enveloping him "- end of the road buddy. Wake up." Juvaun opened his eyes with a start - he looked around wildly for a moment before the initial panic of waking up subsided. He looked up into the sky - the stars were out overhead. "Come on man - gonna have to get you up." Juvaun nodded and smiled. Fair enough. He gathered his senses and sat up, pulling his bag back over his shoulder. He thanked the driver and stepped out onto the open road. The driver said something that wasn't quite audible and the truck pulled away. He started to walk. Forgiveness? Not quite, but enough for now maybe. Juvaun started to gather his senses a little. He watched until the trucks lights were simply a speck on the horizon. He smiled, lopsided - his fathers legacy, a lopsided smile. He wanted to say so much but now wasn't the time or the place - and who could he talk to that would listen? The wild night? On the highway, Juvaun stood watching the lights come up on the city ahead. He didn't know it's name, but it didn't really matter anyway. He could see a plane circling overhead. A plane meant an airport. An airport meant he could get away. Get on a plane and fly away into the night - away. Away from his life. Those eyes were still in his minds eye. The overbearing sense of loss and sorrow. Eyes he had never seen, and knowing them absolutely. Eyes looking into him. Into *him*. He put his hand inside his pocket and pulled out the letter. One last time - he knew the words in his heart and in his soul. One last time... Juvaun, By the time you read this I'll be gone - there's no point in looking for what isn't there. I learnt that the hard way. I never knew I was looking for love until I found you. You were the most precious thing in my life. But life took me away and took you away from me. No child should see their mother die, that's why you've never seen me, and you never will. I had no choice - your father wouldn't, couldn't take you. Maybe in your own way you'll find each other you'll share a bond like no other. But that's a road you'll have to walk yourself. I can't show you the way - there is too much is at stake for us all. All I want you to know is that I will always love you - everlong. Your mother The light from the approaching city reflected on the single teardrop that rolled from his eye. He brought a sleeved arm up and brushed it away. The only tear he had shed for his mother. The first and the last. Juvaun stopped, screwed the battered and taped letter up into a ball and threw it out into the desert. He didn't need it anymore. His past floated away into space on the breeze. He watched it go, until it was first a single dot, and then he was looking out into the night and nothing more. He turned and started to walk again - on his forehead he could feel the first spots of rain - the breeze was stronger now, lifting his hair so that it flowed behind him. It was cooler now the heat had subsided. He allowed himself a little smile... On the lost highway of the night, Juvaun Scully picked up his pace a little. The storm had started to break... END "Come on people, say you want a revolution."
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