Black Dahlia

The night was too serene. The sounds of the highway were almost inaudible. The stars were out and the silk breeze shattered against two dark figures as they swiftly, but urgently, as if trying to put the events of the night behind them, hurried to the car. The doors opened and shut silently, as if the men did not wish that anyone would know of their presence, or maybe it was just to preserve the stillness of the beautiful and satin night. As the car growled and came to life the spell of mystery was broken.

Once they were on the highway the older man cast his first curt  glance at the younger man, sitting in the passenger’s seat right next to him. Feeling the gaze upon him the young man pressed his lips together, as if stopping all the things he had in his mind from flowing out and instead looked on to the dark and desolated road. It looked like it went nowhere. Both men were tense in the strained silence, although both had different reasons that would not let them verbalize their thoughts and fears. The older did not want to flood the younger with the things he had to say, not words of understanding, but rather of reprimand. He understood that he must say them, because he discerned something in his passenger’s face that cried for words of guidance, help, but even more so, encouragement, that would give him faith in himself and more importantly in the Redeemer. The older man searched his brain for things he learned at the seminary that could bring hope and change in the heart of the unsuccessful lawbreaker that was sitting next to him.

"I am sorry I had to call you tonight, but if I called my parents they would flip out and probably leave me in there. I would rather have you bail me out and then preach at me and try to save my lost soul than face them tonight,” said the passenger, his voice firm and defiant.

The driver, without moving a single muscle, without acknowledging that he heard the young man’s controversial apology, looked ahead. He scrutinized the road. The curves and turns directed him on his way home, promising a safe and restful destination. He was trying to pull his thoughts together.

"You don't have to say anything. I know what you’re thinking. 'Poor boy, is it too late for him? No it can't be, O Jesus my Savior, protect his soul from fiery hell', but this is my life and I do what I want and maybe... someday... if I feel like it, I’ll go out of my way and change. But that won’t be today. There’s always tomorrow, pastor,” continued the young man, dismissively waving his hand, as though that was support enough for his haughty claim. Then, as if he gained his second wind, he straightened out in the passenger seat, adjusted the seatbelt, leaned over and stared the driver in the eye, a challenge in every miniscule muscle movement. “Doesn't your precious book speak only of second chances and hope for the lost, the ones like me? I will have my second chance for as long as I live, so I don't have to decide anything tonight or even anytime soon. What am I like, twenty? My whole life is ahead of me, just like this stupid highway", spat the young man, his face contorting in a grimace of disdain, as he once again glanced onto the road covered in obsidian darkness.

This time the older man could not keep his thoughts in, "You are given today to prepare for tomorrow, and yes, a second chance is promised to all those who repent and come to know the Lord, as well as compassion, love, forgiveness and an eternity with Him, but your tomorrow is not promised to you by anyone."

The younger rolled his eyes and slowly, accenting every word drawled, "Neither was I told that I won’t get a tomorrow. So I will continue to hold to the belief that it is never too late in life to realize and revise". And with that he raised his chin and out of the corner of the eye glanced at the pastor.

Taking a deep breath, and then another, with long pauses in between, the pastor answered, "That is true. But know this: the greatest tragedy in life is that we realize things very late in our life and by the time we realize them, it’s too late".

"You seemed to be of the opinion that it’s never too late to see the light in the distance, the last time you drilled me on the whole salvation and eternal life deal. I’m not easily brainwashed, and you know it, so why should tonight be any different?" parried the passenger, while his voice filled with bewilderment.

"I am not trying to brainwash you. I want to tell you about what I know to be true. I want to show you how it has affected my life and after that I can only pray that you would at least think about it".

"Ok, sir, can we make a deal? I promise to think about it, but you will not bring it up ever again. And then maybe tomorrow something will change... if I feel like it. Tomorrow."

Without waiting for a response, the young man turned to look out the window at the dark shapes of trees that flashed by. His shoulders sagged and his head rested on the cold window, as his breaths condensed on the glass into delicate and detailed patterns. The silence was restored, although neither man felt at ease in this vacuum of conversation.

As the highway headed in to the city... Flash. Car.Swerve. Panic. Collision. Impact. Pain. Darkness. Ocean of pain. Vision obscured by blood. Ghoulish cough. Gasping. Last seconds.

Whisper from the driver seat, "I am not afraid of death because I am certain that God is already there, waiting to welcome me. Are you?"

Blackness. Cold. Numbness. Dawn. But for some it is too late to see the light in the distance.