Or things you can dream up while stuck for an eternity at
traffic lights ;) ...Or, a signal that somebody needs to get herself a life!
Her life flashed before her eyes. It didn�t take long. Her life was pitifully short. She�d been in this job a week, she shouldn�t have to die for it.
She hadn�t really chosen the job. No one had taken her aside and asked if this is what she wanted to do. No one considered that this might not be her ideal career. No one cared that she might have hopes and desires beyond these constraints. That maybe, just maybe she wasn�t ready to die. Hell, she deserved a chance to live. Death stared her in the face and he wasn�t a grinning skeleton. She didn�t feel much like grinning either. There were no grins here. Just the light. The bright white light. Her vision tunnelled so the light was all she could see. The light was everything, the door to the unknown. The end of hope. The end of her.
It had seemed so simple standing in line, all starchy new with high expectations. Solidarity. There�d been a long queue of them, all fresh and eager to be assigned. It had been a proud moment getting her special jacket. There was a smell to newness. A heady aroma to make one stand tall, head high. No cameras. No group shots. Still it was a fine moment, even for those who blinked blearily under the bright lights and worried about how they�d got here. About where they would be going next. All lined up pristine, soldiers on display. Soldiers awaiting orders. The florescent tubes way up above, glared down showing every flaw, but she�d not flinched. She�d not let the team down. Not to say she hadn�t had qualms, but still, she�d stood tall.
The man hustling around waving a clipboard had given the command. The others slouched slurping coffee and chewing crusts and jumped to attention. Jumped might not be the term. The other men pulled themselves together grumbling loudly. Some made ribald comments not to be repeated. One or two asked direction, argued good naturedly and gathered tools. Finally it seemed things where going to happen. The waiting was over. An older man who�d been hustling around in dusty clothes waving papers and muttering on a phone gave the signal.
With a horrendous shriek it all began.
The metal shutter rose. Daylight streamed into the building, reflecting of the recruits shiny new jackets. A bright reflective gleam to make ones eyes sore. Various vehicles were lines outside. Dust and grime seemed standard. Slogans were indecipherable, other than the request to be cleaned that some wit and inscribed with a finger on the nearest bumper.
She�d been bustled into the back of that same van. All clean and shiny in those murky confines. A bunch of them crowded in tight before the doors slammed. A slap and a shout, then they were off, ignition started. The van moved out and the job began in earnest.
Not the most glamorous of assignments by any means. She stood in her line and watched as they were all given positions. A few, perhaps the tallest, the proudest were given the lights. For a time she�d felt envious. What it would be to hold the light high, to be the focal point. To guide and warn. To shoulder the responsibility. The prestige. With hindsight it was no big deal. They worked as a team splitting up and spreading out for more coverage. No one of them more important than another. But oh to be chosen. To have had whatever qualities they�d looked out for. It would have been fine to hold that light high. Things would have been different if she�d held that light. Here now she could have brandished it high and perhaps it wouldn�t be her staring into her death. Seeing that white light and waiting for the curtain to fall.
Her placement had been rather pleasant all considered. A bit away from the others as though ostracised. Part of the group, but apart. Isolation was not a problem for her. She didn�t feel lonely. There were advantages the chance to relax and think for one. To feel the sun and dream. Quiet; alone-time was relatively new and she lapped it up. Nice job if you can get it. Relax on a sunny verge and dream. Many would opt for it. If you have to be sent somewhere it�s not the worst detail you could pull.
The novelty wore off. Probably about the time the first dog showed up! Filthy things. All slobber and drool. Not to mention other mementos. No. Not to mention that. The owners hadn�t been much better, in all truth they were worse. One had gone as far as to aim a kick at her! At her who�d never hurt anyone. Her, who was doing her job, fighting to remain respectful and helpful despite the provocation. Despite the mangy mutts. Despite the churlish owners who should themselves be put on leads and dragged away.
Serendipitously, or so it had seemed. The van driver returned before she had to face further indignities. Before that dog and its despicable owner could cause any harm. Before she could be hurt. They left to avoid confrontation and not soon enough. She didn�t have time for thanks, nor to feel mortification at having the situation witnessed. The driver consulted a chart and gave her a new post.
Optimism can be a crusher. Serendipitous indeed. The new posting was near the road, in the very line of danger. Gravel shot up from under the wheels of a passing bus, showering her with grit. Not a pleasant experience. It would raise comment if she flinched. So no ducking for cover, she stood sentry with the others and acted as though it didn�t bother her. As if she had no feelings. On the up side she wasn�t alone anymore. Here she was in close contact with the others. She stood tall, as they stood tall. She would not be the first to weaken, to fall by the wayside.
When morning drew some had indeed fallen. A few had gone in the night, slunk away when eyes where otherwise engaged. Some fallen literally from exhaustion. Through injury. Via malpractice. Pick an option. But, she. She had remained erect a proud figure guarding her ground. No longer sparkly clean true. The flash jacket that had been a thing of such pride bore a tare. But she stood her ground where others had failed. It didn�t get her respect or gratitude. It didn�t gain her light and leadership. The light she stared unwaveringly at now, withstanding.
From there the days were pretty monotonous. None of the excitement a young recruit craved. Her placement hardly changed at all. When extras arrived she felt a trifle jaded, no longer fresh and new. She caught the gaze of a number of them as took up point and realised that she from their eyes she was scarred and battle worn. One of those with experience and tales to tell. A figure of awe and also warning. It was only her fifth day on the job. She was not yet a general to sit back, smoke a cigar from the war room and shout. She was yet young. She had if not hope then dreams still.
Disillusionment was ripe amongst the troops. Of those dropped with her most had gained that hard edge from knowledge and realisation. It should not have surprised her when her nearest comrade defected. Nearest in distance, in land between. They�d not actually spoken, not a word exchanged. She felt the loss though.
The laughing voices. A song a jest. Let�s forget the retch. College kids by the ruckus. Young and brazen, alcohol fuelling frivolities. Was it shame to cut loose? To separate from the collective? Her temporary neighbour had offered no resistance. When the lanky youth had hauled her up she�d made no protest. Carried aloft, she�d left the rest of them to carry on their duties without her. AWOL. Absent with out leave. Absent with out shame. With out regrets.
High morals are cold comfort. Is it wrong to leave with laughing boys and better to remain and stare into the harsh jaws of death. No grinning, no laughter here. Who was the better off now? Whose choice the best?
She�d held a light. The absconded. She was the main guide. The leader. The one to warn. With her gone safe positions became precarious. Danger abound. Enemy approached. The vehicle at first approach seemed no different to any other of the many that had travelled the roads past this point. Boy racers. Coloured lights flickering needlessly. Loud music thumping out, words and reason drowning under the pressure of the heavy bass.
She�d thought nothing when the window was cranked open. Hadn�t thought of much when the car reversed with a squeal of clashing gears like pigs rounded up and put on a spit. Her mind had been blank when she saw the car line up in the distance. In the near distance. Mercifully blank.
The headlights went on full. Sweeping the road and blinding those ahead. Blinding her. Dread set in when the engine was revved. Overkill, loud revs, tires spinning.
Look into the light. Got towards the light. No, thanks. No. Thank. You. But what other option. She couldn�t run. There was no where to hide. No escape. Her time was up. She was out of luck. Out of hope. No time for dreams. The great melting pot in the sky beckoned.
Staring ahead. Meeting those piercing orbs of light head on. Not flinching. Standing tall, awaiting her fate. It was only time now. Seconds really before she met her grisly end.
Had she been asked, had she been given choice. She�d have chosen different. An ignoble end for one so brave. She�d done her duty, served her time. This wasn�t her ideal. This path, this job was not for her. No. This was not the job for her.
The car sped up and all was moot.
The cone was crushed under burning rubber. Voices spoke. Jeered and laughed.
