The human mind is that space of fascination which may be light or total darkness. It is an unfathomable sea whose mysteries we prefer to ignore, perhaps for fear of getting lost in them. The labyrinth that is the mind intrudes memories and things that we only imagine, but so vividly that sometimes it is impossible to distinguish them from memory.
A green canopy covers the road as Max drives mechanically, the intertwined branches of the trees on either side of the road always gave him a sense of tranquility whenever he drove through that part of the city. That afternoon was not enough to reassure him as he drove to the hospital to pick up his wife Clare.
Since a few months ago Clare has started having schizophrenic episodes, she woke up at night terrified, always narrating the same scene; it was at night, she was lying on the ground on some road while an arriving car dazzled her with its headlights, she raised a hand in front of her eyes trying to see without being able to do it, she only knew that something was wrong with her husband. Clare was convinced that it was not a nightmare and that it was something she and Max had lived through.
Since then, the fear of going out deprived her habits and made her instability progressively more acute, so that during the last weeks she had to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital to recover. That afternoon she was to be discharged and Max was on his way to pick her up.
_ How is she, Doctor? Max asked, rubbing his hands together in an anxious gesture.
_ She is better, she has become more confident, although she keeps insisting that the scene that overwhelms her is a memory of something you experienced.
Max stares at the papers on the doctor's desk, listening to the explanation of Clare's care needs. Although he is barely in his forties, these last few months seem to have aged him as if the years have fallen upon him.
A nurse enters the office announcing that Mrs. Clare is ready to leave. The doctor finishes filling out the reports and instructions to give to Max.
The husband and wife walk slowly to the car, Clare seems to be calm, even though the doctor had warned him that the medication would keep her very quiet for a few hours. It gets dark outside the psychiatric ward, a cold breeze announces that it will soon start raining. Max hurries to get Clare into the car, as it is a couple of hours' drive from home.
Already on the road it starts to rain, Max slows down, that road is dangerous when it rains, when he turns on the windshield wiper it starts to work irregularly and suddenly stops working, Max looks at Clare who is leaning against the door without knowing what is happening. Max takes a handkerchief out of his pocket to defog the glass, and in one of the passes he drops it between his legs. Just for a second, He took his eyes off the road. Just a moment and when He looked again a car came in front, Max maneuvers abruptly and the car flips over, spinning a couple of times.
Max is lying on the floor of the road while a car that arrived dazzled him with its headlights, he raised a hand in front of his eyes trying to see without being able to do it, he only knew that something was wrong with his wife. Max is paralyzed with the sensation that he is living the scene narrated by Claire a thousand times. He crawled desperately in the direction he sensed Clare was, and there he saw it. A slender, luminous winged figure held Clare in his lap, placed her gently on the pavement, looked up at Max and vanished in a rush into the sky.
The driver of the arriving car helped Max, who was in bad shape, to his feet and when they reached Clare, she was asleep, calm and without the slightest scratch.
This is an original story for The ink well community in their weekly prompt #53: Headlights.
Image courtesy of Pixabay
