Side of the ride

Some people are scared of spiders. I get that, they're frightening looking creatures.

Some are afraid of snakes, I get that too.

Some of the dark, some of heights, some of scarecrows, some of exams.

…But it's a little different for me… My entire life, I've been scared of the giant that watches from the sides of the highway.

He's always been there. As long as I can remember. And he's always frightened me.

He's colossal; a still and silent monolith. I've never seen him move, but whenever my Mom drove me somewhere far away… he was watching. He still is, whenever I have to take a long drive. Far in the distance beyond the road, shrouded in low-hanging clouds at the top of a hill, or on the side of a mountain, towering up towards the sky as he soundlessly watches the lights of the cars flicker by along the highway.

I don't know why I think of it as a 'he'. I guess it has kind of a male build. He has the rough shape of a human, a massive one.

Whenever I see him he always looks like he was formed from the materials of the ground on which he stands. Usually, this means he is a titan of brown and green, a rough and terrible extension of the wildgrass hillside, a mountainous body of rock and dark earth.

This was how he appeared in the earliest memory I have of him.

…I saw his gigantic silhouette appear in the distance, a monstrous shadow in the wet, gray mist of that cold, dark evening. I remember wiping away the condensation on the car window to get a better look; staring, my heart pounding, my body a rush with that most basic of human instincts- an ancient and quietly powerful dread, the fear of the unknown. His eyes were glowing a soft green, like lamps through the enshrouding fog. Looking back at me from afar.

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No-one else can see him.

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I learned this pretty quickly. For my mother, my constant insistences and compulsive, anxious questioning went from creative and charming to rude, frustrating and disturbing with significant speed. So I dropped it. No-one else brings him up. No-one mentions him. No-one else stares out their window, cold and terrified as his form passes by in the wilderness beyond the road. I never know exactly when or where he's going to appear. But he always does. Whenever a trip warrants any significant period of time on a highway, he'll be there.

Watching.

I've never left the country; I'm only twenty-one, to be fair, but when I was younger my Mom used to drive the two of us down south to visit relatives. It was a long drive, and one I always spent in a shivering sense of deep discomfort, the edge of panic a tide that ebbed and flowed against my constitution. I never knew when the giant was going to appear. The anticipation was always worse than his eventual appearance, but every time I saw him- every time I SEE him- when I catch that first glimpse- the feeling is always the exact same. The icy surge of adrenaline, the sharpening of my senses and the dulling of any extraneous meanderings of my mind. There is only the present moment. Me, and the giant.

He's appeared to me in the desert before too, as a tower of orange-gold sandstone, great clouds of dust swirling about his lower legs, shimmering almost imperceptibly as the sun burns high in the sky. He's appeared as a grim goliath of frosted rock in the mountains; his rough, crude, barely human-like features weather-beaten and scarred by the swirl of the snowstorm and the biting hail.

He never appears close to the road, so it's hard to tell for sure, but sometimes his skin resembles the rough, dark bark of the surrounding trees, clustered perhaps, gathered around his knees, the deep forest-green of the pine needles carrying far up towards his chest.

I saw him once standing in the sea. He was a long way away that time. But he looked worn, a coastal stack, standing stock still as always… a dark, rough stone body that simultaneously boasted a deep and incalculable strength, a power beyond rational comprehension, and yet somehow at the same time seemed like it could collapse at any time and become lost to the frothing, churning sea below. Just another, unremarkable heap of underwater rock and sand.

But his eyes are always the same. Soft green. Glowing through the haze or the rain or the cloud.

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Looking back into mine.

​

My Mom doesn't drive me around much anymore; I don't live with her these days.

My fiancé's been my driver for the last few years. I never learned to drive myself, you see, I'm too scared. The thought of driving alone down the road… the only person in the vehicle as the giant watches me pass from up on high… it's too much. The thought alone makes me sweat. I don't know what he wants, but I can't shake the knowing feeling that he wants me by myself.

He's not a naturally… good-tempered man, my fiancé. He gets angry easily. He didn't at first, but… he does now. Nothing I say makes him happy. And I try so hard.

But he provides. He looks after me. I really should be more grateful.

So many women have it worse.

I haven't had a great deal of positive male role models growing up, if I'm being honest. My Dad was a good man, apparently. But I never met him. He was a construction worker, died on the job before I was born, in an accident. My Mom never really recovered.

The way she is now… she's all I've ever known, but my Aunt tells me that she used to smile so much more. She used to make jokes. She used to laugh.

But I digress. I'm still with Colton (that's my partner's name), because men tend to scare me. And my fiancé's mood swings are bearable if he can keep me safe from the others.

Safe from the unknown.

He lashes out at me sometimes. He says things he doesn't mean. He hits me, on occasion. It's never pre-planned though, you have to understand. It's never malicious. He just loses control. He sees red.

It's a color he's been seeing in greater, more vibrant shades these last few months.

I think the wedding is stressing him out.

It stresses me out too.

Not that I'd ever let him know that though, of course. That would only make things worse.

We've been driving around a lot, scoping out potential venues. And they are all so far away… Every trip requires a long and troubling drive down some highway. A drive under the watchful eyes of the silent colossus.

Colton has always known that long drives make me nervous. He thinks it's funny. He laughs at me, makes fun. I've considered telling him the real reason… telling him about the giant… on more than one occasion, but I've always decided against it.

After all, what good would it do? He'd think I was mocking him. He'd get angry. So I stay quiet and endure the teasing. As long as he's here with me. As long as I'm not alone on the highway, then it's okay. Not alone with the giant.

…Recently, however, Colton hasn't found my anxiety particularly funny. Under the pressure of the impending wedding he's become certain that my unsettled state… my set jaw, my tremblings, my clenching and unclenching fingers… my furtive glances out the window and my quiet, uncertain half-presence in conversation… is down to *him*. To our upcoming marriage and our relationship. And this makes him resentful. And the resentment always gives way, sooner rather than later, to bitter fury.

"You're a stupid CUNT, Rose!" he barks, mid-rant, shooting me a quick, fiery stare before returning his eyes to the road.

I say nothing.

"You don't even want to get married at all, do you? Hm? You want to lock your fucking claws into me and then divorce me… you wanna take me for half my worth, don't you? HEY! I'm TALKING TO YOU!"

"I don't, Colton", I reply, quietly, watching the giant pan steadily by. He's stood in the distance amongst a series of low, green hills. A flock of birds fly behind his head in an intricate, swooping formation.

*You can't get me, monster beyond the road*, I think to it. *I don't know what you want, but you won't have me today. Not today. Not today.*

"YES YOU DO!" he screams, slamming his fist against the wheel. He reaches over and grabs a handful of my hair, yanking me close. I cry out in anguish.

"Everything I do, everything I fucking do for you… and for WHAT? What the fuck do you do for me? You barely listen! I try to talk with you, to be constructive, and you treat me like a fucking afterthought!"

"I'm sorry, Colton… please" I whimper, quietly, as earnestly as I can. I have to sound like I mean it, or it just gets worse.

He swears under his breath, shaking his head, but mercifully, he releases me, and I thank him. I try to touch his shoulder, but he shrugs me off. I turn to look back out of the window. Trickles of condensation shake and run down the glass in little rivers.

The giant watches.

​

\*

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The wedding is next week. Colton's only gotten worse. It's the stress. Some of us handle it better than others, I can understand that.

I have to wear long-sleeve shirts when I go out now. He's picked up a new habit; when I frustrate him, he grips my forearm as hard as he can, and he twists. It usually just leaves a red mark that lasts for a few days, but sometimes he breaks the blood vessels under the skin and bruises form- brown, yellow, purple. So I wear the long-sleeves.

He's scarier, now. It used to be bearable, I used to actually want to marry him, once. I still want to make him happy, that's what I've always wanted, but the thought of being trapped with him… forever... what if he doesn't get better? What if he only gets worse? What if the stress just keeps coming?

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…But I push these treasonous thoughts aside. They'll do me no good now.

​

I'm in the car again. The passenger seat. Colton is driving. The world beyond the road is a picture of rain. Great, loud sheets of it pouring through the haze, the low green mountains in the distance mere shadows and shapes amidst the thrall of the storm. The rain impedes our progress, and we aren't going as fast as Colton would like, and this has put him in an unfortunate mood.

I am, as always, on edge.

The topic of conversation has staggered clumsily onto my necklace.

"No". He replies flatly, twitching. Rage bristles below the surface. A vein in his neck throbs, then fades. "It's an ugly looking thing and if I'm being honest, Rose, I've always kind of hated it. It doesn't fit with the theme. The wedding's going to be in blue and white. Your necklace is green".

"I know, I know it doesn't fit the theme", I say apologetically, "but my mother gave it to me, and I know it's not the prettiest looking thing in the world but I still think it's sort of nice… it would mean a lot to me if-"

"Did you HEAR ME, ROSE?" he shouts, shoving me away as thunder rolls dangerously across the far sky. "Are you LISTENING? You never fucking LISTEN. I said NO. No you're not wearing that hideous thing".

My lip trembles. I hate that this is the way my body reacts, but it is what it is. I try to prevent my throat from closing up; a pitiful defence mechanism. "It's- my Mom would-"

"Your Mom is a stupid, selfish bitch", he mutters through clenched teeth, flashing his lights at the car in front through the rain.

"Please, Colton, don't-"

"DON'T!?" he repeats, turning to look at me, spit flying from his lips, "Did you say DON'T? How fucking DARE you! You do NOT tell me what I can and cannot do you ungrateful BITCH".

I try to assuage him, to calm him down, but he only gets worse, he puts his foot down on the accelerator and swerves angrily around the car in front, honking the horn as he does so, and with a sharp push of the button on the door, the driver's window rolls down, the sound of the wind a sudden roar as rain lashes into the car. He grabs my necklace and tears it from my neck in a swift movement, hurling it out of the vehicle and into the downpour.

"NO!" I cry out, leaning across him, reaching out instinctively to try and grab it back, but I am too late. He pushes me back and mutters something else under his breath.

"How COULD you!" I say, with voice raised… I did not plan on this accusation, I couldn't help it. I know it was unwise, that I shouldn't have, and I'll feel guilty about it later…. But how could he? How could he do something so heartless to his own fiancé?

And he strikes me. He gives me a quick but heavy glance, loaded with disdain, and smacks me hard across the cheek and jaw with the full force of his hand. The pain comes in sharp, immediate heat that throbs across the side of my face. I turn away and against my desperate will, start to sob, ever so softly. My tears like the rain against the window.

Colton raises his voice further still, above the hammering of the storm against the windscreen- "You're not LISTENING ROSE for FUCK'S SAKE! Look what you made me do! If you don't stop crying then I'm going to have to-"

But he stops mid-sentence. His words evaporate from his tongue in a gasp, a noise that temporarily empties his lungs.

A great streak of lightning cuts in jagged lines through the darkness of the sky ahead, and for a moment all is illuminated in brilliant white light. The cars ahead, the highway, the mountains beyond, and the giant.

He stands directly in front, far away amongst the mountains, but he is taller still. A titan of rock; eyes keen and glowing through the swirling fog and the rolling clouds; yet ever-silent in the howl of the rain.

His sudden appearance makes me jump in horror. His eyes, once you see them, are obvious; I don't know how I missed him… But, of course, I always see him eventually.

​

Something curious happens next, though. Something that has never happened before. Something I will think about for the rest of my life.

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"What the fuck…" Colton begins, "…is THAT".

​

And I turn to him. He is staring ahead. Eyes wide, wider than I've ever seen them before, his knuckles white on the wheel, his mouth agape. "Are you fucking SEEING that!?"

I follow his line of sight, and look back to him, then back along his line of sight, and back to him. I squeeze his arm with sudden panic- "Seeing WHAT, Colton? Say it! What is it? What can you see?"

I'm unable to keep myself from shaking as a deep and powerful fear courses through me, as the wind and the rain batter malevolently against the windows.

"…That… that fucking…"

Colton licks his dry and cracked lips;

"…that fucking giant", he whispers, and goosebumps ripple across my skin. I slam a hand to my mouth and look back to the colossus, his glowing eyes two hate-filled searchlights in the darkness.

​

This is it. This is the end. He's coming for me.

​

And the giant moves.

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Lightning crackles again across the sky, a heavy tide of thunder rolls over the mountains and down the highway, I can feel it crash against the car, shaking it, Colton crying out as he struggles with the wheel; and the giant slowly, painstakingly lowers his head, the noise a deep yet ethereal groan lost amidst the thunder. His eyes flash, and he starts to lift his arm, to reach out his hand. He's miles away, miles and miles and miles, but the sense that the giant could lean down, all the way down from the sky and stride towards us, crushing the vehicle like a beetle in his grip, or worse, is very real. Palpable. It is like the very mountain itself has singled us out, like it has directed the raging storm our way, and it is terrifying.

"PLEASE!" I scream, "PLEASE!"

Colton is incomprehensible, he is babbling nonsense, whimpering and shouting intermittently, and he cannot take his eyes off the giant ahead… nor, his foot from the pedal.

The giant groans and the rain cascades and the thunder ripples over the mountains.

"COLTON!" I cry out, "COLTON LOOK OUT!"

The car is coming up to the back of a jam. Traffic in the storm. And Colton screams, yanking the wheel to the left, then changing his mind, and hastily spinning it to the right.

Lightning flashes for a third and final time and the car careens off the road. The rain is a vortex around the vehicle as it spins and the scene outside becomes a blur of gray and green. I hear the sound of tearing metal and shattering glass, and the world goes black.

​

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\*

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​

It's been five months since then.

I remember waking up the next morning in a hospital bed, panicked, frightened by the glare of the overhead lights, unsure of where I was or what was happening.

Once I'd calmed down, they told me that Colton had been killed in the crash.

Neck broken on impact.

...

I didn't feel a thing when they shared the news. I wasn't really sure how to feel.

He was dead. Gone. Just like that.

…And I had gotten away with some nausea, and a broken arm.

​

In the span of the five months that followed I did not see the giant again.

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Not once.

Nowhere to be seen, he had, it seemed, stopped appearing to me.

And so I decided to learn how to drive.

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I was pretty good, as it happened. A natural. I knew I had to be a natural at something, and it seems that that 'something' is driving. Who'd have thought it.

I passed my first time with flying colors. My Mom's found herself a half-decent job as of late, and she chipped in to help buy me my first car. She was so proud.

I'm driving it now. My first drive actually, my first solo. Nerve-wracking for sure, but I'm not going particularly fast. An easy one. And I know exactly where I'm headed.

The evening sky tonight is purple. Wisps of thin, horizon-orange cloud drift lazily behind the mountains. There are not many cars on the highway.

I'm driving back to where we had the accident.

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And it isn't too long before I see him.

The giant.

He's not standing now. He is sitting; cross-legged and still, watching from the mountainside ahead.

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I keep driving.

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I keep driving until I am as close the mountain as I can get. I find a road that branches off, though it's more of a dirt track, really, it clearly isn't maintained.

I bring the car to a gentle stop and put it into park, stepping out the door and onto the wild grass beyond. And I walk.

I walk over the fields and away from the highway. My legs tire quickly on the uphill incline, but I continue nonetheless. I climb the mountain with long, exhausting, but steady steps.

And it's not so bad. It's more of a long, high hill than a mountain, really. Still high enough to be far, far above the highway though… the cars below are little but twinkling fireflies beneath a deep and indigo sky.

I come to an eventual stop at the giant's outstretched hand. He's still sitting, cross-legged, but his arm stretches down to the ground, his hand open and palm upwards-facing.

He is looking down at me now. I didn't notice any movement from his head, but our gazes meet as I look up at him.

He is huge. So incredibly, impossibly, almost incomprehensibly massive.

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And yet… in the light of the setting sun, I realize that I don't know how I could ever have found him scary.

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I touch a hand to one of his enormous fingers.

He feels warm.

The evening's light, before it fades, catches on something hung from a rock at his fingertip. A quick flash that draws my eye, and when I see it, I smile.

It's my necklace. The one my mother gave me, glittering.

I reach out and take it, and I crane my neck, looking back up into the giant's face.

"Thank you", I whisper.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the giant closes his bright and shining eyes.

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And I take my leave.

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It's time to let him rest.

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\*

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I haven't seen the giant since the day he returned my necklace. I'm not sure if I ever will again. But I still feel like he's watching me. Watching over me, I guess.

And I'm no longer afraid.

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