Kill Road

The others had been here for some time. It had been many seasons. With each one, their spaces had become larger and continued to spread death. What they touched seemed to turn into deep greys and became hard, causing us to avoid it as much as possible. Trees were constantly being replaced with impossibly lifeless, foreign things and many smaller ones lost their lives with this process.

I could not understand how the kill road was a road. It was not a soft road or a grass road nor a hidden road that was travelled on and worn gently by the limbs of forest keepers. It was concrete, rougher than stone, and pushed its way through the belly of the forest instead of softly falling around the home of each tree. There was no scent to it; it was always empty, as if it absorbed anything natural it happened to touch. The others travelled by it daily, sitting inside strange pieces of metal mixed with glass, going awfully fast. And the noise; the noise it all made, was terrifying.

Many had disappeared on the kill road, sometimes, even just by the edge itself. As a fawn I had thought, and wanted to believe, that perhaps these ones had been able to venture across to the other side of the forest to new beginnings, but this was never the case. My mother knew differently and had begun to tell me so when she had realized how curious I was to explore the road myself; to venture beyond the known and discover what else the forest had to offer. It was then that this foreboding name was first uttered to me, and so, kill road it became, and kill road it had always been since.

I had been told the stories. In an instant, a life would be swept away. In only an instant, a life would become mashed; a bloody mess of bones and skins staining the concrete. These ones would appear in my dreams at night; little ripped tails mixed with severed paws and crushed ribs falling against feathers, their faces scraped with dead eyes. They'd attempt to whisper, in between their cries and chirps and moans, but I could never hear them. Over and over again, pieces of their being would fall within each other, as their blood oozed, spreading tales of their forgotten fate in my horrible dreams. And with each day, I would carry them inside me, shuddering.

─────

It was a groundbreaking project, this development. He had been offered a bonus just for signing on. Twenty thousand dollars. The thought of it, this amount of compensation just to start a contract, swelled within his mind. It did not seem real, at least not yet; it was still just a mere concept. The cheque had been written at his arrival, and, being unable to venture back into town to deposit it, he had placed it delicately within the pages of his small black notebook; the notebook which had always held all of his ideas, and now, his dreams.

He had been sketching since childhood. It started with his observations around home on leftover napkins and construction paper. He was fond of copying the straight edges of furniture, the various designs of window panes, and the layers of brick around the fireplace. When outdoors, he was enamoured by the shapes of concrete fountains, designs twisted from steel, and the integrity of bridges as they stood on their own against time. As he grew, he found himself constructing his own structures, first, with popsicle sticks, before he began to search for scraps of metal and stone and little twigs, layering them all within another.

His creations had been relentless and eventually became quite disorganized. It was his father who had given him his first notebook, in hopes to avoid further stray sketches strewn across each area of the house; his father, who never really attempted to create anything of his own. His hands were used for logging and he rarely ever found himself thinking of improvements beyond the four walls of his home. His hands were those of one who always followed the directions of another, and yet, they had given him a safe place, a fortress, a haven, for all of his creations; his notebook. His black notebook, as that would be the sensible choice of colour from someone with the personality of his father.

However, he had not been disappointed. The black, it had been beaming. It was brilliant. Hidden. Placid. Secure. He could never have imagined the amount of perpetual discoveries he made folded up inside of it all, and, subsequently, he continued to replace it, always with his father's original choice, as each one became filled to the brim with his notes and designs.

He had gotten to work promptly after his arrival. It was a remote coal mine location deep within the mountains. The present highway had weathered and cracked causing far too many difficulties for the mining vehicles that frequented it. There were a great many things that needed to be improved upon and created, and it was a difficult area. The forests were vast, isolated, and the plan was to build up the area to match the success of the company. They had wanted larger roads, more buildings, and, perhaps, even some bridges to make areas more accessible, all with impeccable design.

The bench within the hidden clearing across from the main highway had welcomed him on his first day. It was nestled far away from the buildings that everyone else occupied, facing the forest. He knew right away that it would be an area he would frequent; an area to be alone with his creations. Each day, he would wander to the bench with his notebook and his pen and his ruler, accompanied with maps of the area in hand, to continue with his engineering plans.

It was on this day, when he hurriedly crossed the narrow, battered highway in need of repair, over to the bench within the hidden clearing, that the apple he had gathered in between his arms with his disorganized bundle of things, tumbled onto the concrete below and smashed on the edge of contact, unbeknownst to him.

─────

The sunshine was endless. It had been a gentle summer, with rare storms and many mosses traversing under and onto the barks of trees, but the mild winds had been growing stronger, and food had started to become scarce in some areas, whispering tales of a nearing autumn. Despite the sunshine, the forest was often shaded, due to the vast canopies of trees sheltering us. I had been wandering down familiar paths, our forest roads, one morning when something strange burst through the common scents of the woods.

It was sweet. Unfamiliar. I sniffed the air, cautiously, and realized that the scent seemed to be wafting from the edge of the forest, a way which I had never truly dared to go.

Could it be berries? I sniffed again, over and over, earnestly trying to decipher what was emitting this strange sweetness. My eyes closed as I wandered gently through the forest, almost subconsciously, as my snout carried me; the scent became stronger with each step as the forest began to thin, and the edges of deep grey began to bleed through the missing trees.

Suddenly, my hoof hit stone. My eyes opened, and I froze.

It was not stone. It was concrete.

I had wandered to the edge of the kill road.

Was this it? I turned my head cautiously. The concrete seemed to be never ending, curving to the left, and endlessly continuing to the right. I could see the other side of the forest, just a leap, or perhaps two, away right in front of me, perhaps-

My eyes had locked onto the middle of the kill road. There it was, the source of the sweetness I had been smelling. It was much larger than a group of berries usually found within the woods, and it was not entirely round. I wondered if it had been broken, as it otherwise had a rounder shape to the rest of it. Yes, it must have been broken, as the concrete near the bottom of it seemed to be a little wet. Could it be juice?

I had not moved my hoof that was placed on the concrete, and now, I felt my other front limb coming to rest next to it, as if I were in a trance. I wanted to step quickly over to this juicy bundle, and run away with it, but images from my dreams echoed inside me, and I hesitated in the edge of the trees.

Just a leap, or perhaps two. My stomachs churned. I felt my body trying to move forward, but I held myself back. I could have leapt and gathered it by now. Everything was quiet.

Just a leap, or perhaps two. I could have gotten it by now. I looked around again. Everything was quiet.

Just a leap, or perhaps two.

I looked around again. Everything was quiet.

Just a leap, or perhaps two.

Everything was quiet.

I leapt.

It was just one leap.

I was standing right above it now. The sweetness was intoxicating. I gathered it into my mouth, and was paralyzed by the juicy, foreign taste.

My eyes had closed. My senses were dulled.

I did not see the metal mixed with glass barreling towards me.

And when I heard it, it was so close to me that I didn't dare to move.

Suddenly noise was blaring, echoing in every direction.

Frightened, I could not move.

Just a leap-

It smashed into me.

─────

It had been a productive morning. He had been busy with measurements and had finished various sketches; most were of the new areas of the highway itself. They had wanted more room, especially for the coal trucks, as two lanes were too narrow and areas were difficult to see. He had ideas for a few different bridges which would cut down travel time immensely, and was eager to bring all of this up during their meeting later this afternoon.

He had heard the honking earlier, but had not paid it much attention. He knew it had likely been a transport truck; whether it had been heading to or from the mine he did not know. It had likely been warding off wildlife which seemed to be bountiful here.

He began heading back from the clearing into the woods, towards the main highway. He had ignored his hunger earlier this morning due to the ferocity of his ideas. He wasn't even able to grab himself breakfast, and had headed to his familiar bench immediately after waking.

He thought he had brought an apple. He shook his head. He likely forgot it when he was gathering his things; it did not matter. He was going to be heading back into the main office building where there would be a great many breakfast foods to choose from, as always. Visions of runny eggs cascading onto sausages and toasts with warm teas and fruit jams clouded his mind, causing him to quicken his pace as he reached the main highway.

The images of breakfast had disappeared in an instant.

Now, he understood the honking.

A carcass of a deer was littered across his path.

The neck had snapped. Blood pooled. Muscle was shredded. Bone poked through. The body was crushed. There were no longer galaxies bursting behind these dead eyes. As he surveyed the sight before him, he was convinced that he smelled something sweet.

His stomach churned.

Uneasily, he passed around the scene before him and continued back as his thoughts became incessant. He believed and determined within himself that he would consider a new creation, a different idea, within the pages of his notebook, to help alleviate what was likely an ongoing problem of this highway hidden amongst the trees.

Road kill.