Ethan Edwards

Movement on the Mountain

As I took in the hot morning sun blasting through the window, the car engine roared to a level so quiet, hushed out of my mind, it would be mad to think it even running. The country lanes bent from one side to the other, willing to take hold any an unfamiliar driver. But after all, I knew those roads. Just another uneventful morning on the typically hour drive to work. You see I live in a small town around 20 miles from the city in which I worked. I won’t bother the reader with the boring life of an office desk and paperwork, but travelling back and two, daily, over several years I may add, gave that long road a sense of home to me. And I did so love the views you could witness over the short-trimmed hedges along that open road. At least until that day.