Moonlight

 

The road cut through the High Sierra mountains like a scar, winding and narrow, the kind of road that demanded respect. The car radio played softly for hours as we drove. Summer nights were long here, longer than the days, and the air carried the scent of pine and dust. The trunk was packed with sleeping bags, rolled tight and shoved against an old cooler. She sat in the passenger seat, her smile faint in the dim light of the dashboard. It was a perfect smile, the kind that made you forget the danger of the winding road.

 

We had driven for hours, the headlights cutting through the darkness, the trees closing in around us. The forest grove was quiet when we arrived, that unique quiet that feels alive. The car top was down, and the smell of fresh mountain pine filled the air. We didn’t speak much. We didn’t need to. The radio played our favorite tunes, and we drank wine from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag. It was cheap wine, but it tasted like something more that night.

 

Her eyes were dark, almost black in the moonlight, and I found myself lost in them. She had a way of looking at you that made you feel like the only person in the world. But there was something else there, something I couldn’t name. Was it love? Or just the illusion of it? I couldn’t tell. Maybe it didn’t matter. Not then.

 

The smell of her hair was intoxicating. She leaned into me, her body warm against mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The forest, the dark road, the future, none of it mattered. We were here, and that was enough. But even as I held her close, I knew it wouldn’t last. The truth of us was simple, and I had been ignoring it for too long.

 

I looked up at the sky, the stars scattered like shards of glass. The moonlight bathed everything in a pale, silver glow. It was beautiful, but it felt ominous, like a warning. Shadows formed around us, shifting and dancing in the light. I held her tighter, knowing it might be the last time. The future wasn’t bright. It wasn’t even clear. But in that moment, I didn’t care.

 

The moonlight shone down, cold and unfeeling. It was beautiful, but it betrayed us. It always reminded me of her—beautiful in the dark, but never staying. She was emotionally gone now, and I knew all that would remain was the memory of her smile, her eyes, and the wonderful feel of her body against mine. The moonlight was a cruel thing, lighting the way but never leading anywhere. It was a reminder of what we had, and what we had lost.

 

We didn’t speak as we packed up the car. The radio was off now, the silence heavy between us. The road back was just as dangerous, but it felt different. The magical spark was gone, replaced by something colder, something real. I glanced at her once, her sad face illuminated by the moonlight, and I knew it was over.

 

The tires hummed against the asphalt as we descended the mountain, the curves sharper now, the darkness deeper. She stared out the window, her reflection ghostly in the glass. I wanted to say something about the love we shared, to tell her what she truly meant to me. But the words stuck in my throat.

 

The headlights caught the edge of the guardrail, the metal gleaming like a knife in the night. I don’t know if it was the wine or the weight of everything unsaid, but my hands felt heavy on the wheel. The curve came too fast, the tires skidding on loose gravel. I jerked the wheel, but it was too late. The car lurched, the world tilting, and then there was nothing but the sound of metal screaming against rock.

 

The last thing I saw was her face, pale and so beautiful in the moonlight, her dark eyes wide with fear. And then the world went black.

 

When they found us, the car was crumpled against a tree, the serious moonlight streaming through the shattered windshield. They said it was quick, that we didn’t feel a thing. But I knew better. I had felt it all—the love, the loss, the terrible, beautiful truth of it all. And as the shadows closed in, I thought of her smile, and how the moonlight had betrayed us one last time.

 

-Mark Gammill

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Moonlight

 

High Sierra roads

the car radio plays

summer nights were long

even longer than those summer days

sleeping bags in the trunk

her perfect smile on passenger side

arriving at a deep forest grove

after a long and dangerous ride.

 

With the car top down

the smell of fresh mountain pine

we listened to our favorite tunes

and drank a lot of our favorite wine.

 

Her dark enchanting eyes

I was lost within the spell

was our love just an illusion

it was hard for me to tell

the smell of her dark brown hair

the feel of her body on mine

ignoring the simple truth

it was easy to be so blind.

 

Looking far into the heavens

knowing our future wasn’t bright

holding her for the last time

shadows forming in the moonlight.

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-Mark Gammill