Snippets VI - Forests of the Carolinas

Snippets are small pieces I am considering expanding into larger works.


The beaten dirt road twists away through the remnant haze of the morning's slow rain. Forest walls of living green press in from both sides. It had been the sort of apathetic shower that never builds momentum, that lacks conviction or direction and, the moment it totters between becoming something and becoming nothing, it turns sideways and wanders into an equally apathetic mist. The humidity exists as a creature of the forest. The air is heavy and no dust kicks up behind the jalopy; the oppressiveness extends to the earth itself.

"How far does it go like this?" I ask. The canopy is folded away and I have to shout to make myself heard over the throaty growl of the engine.

"Like what?" My driver asks. The question pulls him from the tedium of his task. The man does not turn his head. His eyes blink slowly as if the mind behind it has only just crawled out of bed to find noon well at hand. It is ten thirty, however, and we have been bumping and bumbling our way down this cruel rutted track for hours.

"The walls of forest split only by this road. The green canyon before us. How much further?" I ask again.

Another slow blink. This time I get through to him. The humidity and the heat of the sun has beaten away at the man.

"Thirty miles, maybe a little more. Less than two hours," he answers. And with those sentences pulled from him I watch the lassitude return, his brow relax, and his eyes gloss over as they focus again on the road beyond the front glass.

I turn away from the driver and look again at the forest. It pushes to the edge of the road or perhaps the road holds it at arms length through some quiet threat or promise. The only breeze, felt as a faint combination of our forward progress and the distant siren's lure from the edges of autumn, is just enough to breathe rippling life into individual trees. The effect is unsettling, as if each wall of shifting green holds itself paused but a moment for breath before continuing its slow maddening dash to crush the hated road and its occupants between the two sides.