Hello again, sorry things have been a little sparse recently. I’ve been up to all sorts of things that I’m sure I’ll get ’round to blogging about sometime this century (I hope). Here is my entry for this week’s ‘Mid-Week Blues-Buster‘, a song challenge. I felt obliged to enter, as I am a colossal metal-head (not literally), and the song was by Motorhead. How could I refuse? This short piece is simply titled ‘Ace’. I hope you enjoy it!
The roar of the engine thundered over the ear-pummelling music that exploded from the speakers, tyres spinning furiously as they kicked up huge clouds of dust. He turned the wheel this way and that, jerking the vehicle into erratic spasms as it bounced over the sandy terrain.
He was grinning, laughing even, as he rocketed towards the end. Not The End, of course. That was behind him, a mighty flash on the rear-view mirror quickly gaining speed.
He fixed his eyes on the road ahead, turning up the speakers as high as they could possibly go, until the music was almost just distorted noise. His smile widened at at that. Most people thought it was noise anyway.
“Turn that racket down,” his mother used to snarled at him as a child, as he spent his days alone in his room head-banging.
As a man, he’d took it further, joining a band to make such ungodly noise, truly testing the limits of his rebellious streak.
And now here he was. In a stolen car, in the middle of a dusty road somewhere in America, blasting out an anthem from one of the loudest, ugliest British metal bands in the world, as he raced Armageddon.
“There ain’t no way you’re taking me down!” he screamed, his voice lost in the din.
Sweat poured from him as the fireball that had consumed most of the planet was trying to finish the job. He was going to die, of course he was. But ever the rebel, he was going to do it on his own terms!
His foot was to the floor, wet palms glued to the sticky leather of the steering wheel. Everything smelt of burning, of fire, of melting plastic and toxic fumes.
And then he saw it.
There, through the dusty windscreen, the great crevice yawning open before him. One of the biggest cliff faces in the country, a great big hole slap bang in the middle of the sandy plain.
His eyes caught the reflection of the wall of fire gaining from behind. This is it. This is how it ends.
The car practically leapt off the cliff edge, his stomach lurching as if on a roller-coaster. And for a few short, precious seconds, while the rest of the world burned, he flew, soaring through the air.
He sang in time with the song, as he tore through the sky in his battered car, the end of the world right on his tail.
“That’s the way I like it, baby, I don’t want to live forever!”