Close your eyes and remember the way to the trail. There’s a parting in the trees just up ahead. The sky is dull and gray but through the opening light could be seen from the sun. You move slowly pushing branches out of the way until a path is spotted in the clearing. “I’ve been here before, don’t follow it,” but you do anyway despite the inner voice. The feeling of terror returns in a sudden flash of de-ja-vu as soon as your feet begin tracing the path. The light from the sun was deceiving as you look up and around only to discover that your surroundings are darker now than they were before. “What do I do? What happened next?” But you can’t remember. It is blocked every time so you keep going back. A reoccurring nightmare but you can’t remember the reason for terror. What lurks along this trail?
Spontaneity has been a goal many have tried to reach, but let us not be too hasty for there is a difference between acting upon impulse and jumping the gun. Mardi Gras was in full bloom just seven hours away from a small town outside of Houston. Boredom was at its all-time greatest leaving three over-imaginative insomniacs wide open for trouble. The minute hand of a clock whose numbers were actually domino pieces was pointing towards 12 black dots. We could reach New Orleans just in time for the sun’s arrival.