the billboard

It all started, one morning, with a billboard. It was simple, and unassuming, but it was the most inspirational thing I'd ever seen. On a field of pure black, in large white typeface were 8 of the most incredible words I could remember reading in a long time: something amazing is about to happen to you.

The road passed noisily under the tires of a car that should have been taken to a field and shot 3 owners before myself. The speed limit signs were, as usual, becoming merely suggestions as my foot sunk deeper into the accelerator, the little red need on the speedometer bouncing up and down with each deformity on the black top that fell away faster and faster.

This morning, still practically night by most people's standards, which typically require sunlight to distinguish day from night, I had one of the only vehicles along my stretch of county road. It was still dark, the dark of a starless night during a new moon, a pitch black illuminated only sporadically by road lamps pouring a yellow fountain straight through the fog onto the ground below. They whipped by at 75 miles per hour, my car shaking slightly with wheels only somewhat out of alignment, the steering wheel fighting against me with each passing meter.

The darkness and the fog left the world feeling as if it were at a complete stand still as I streaked along the country side. All along the road that was supposed to take me to the hum drum of my daily, mind numbing, soul crushing, assembly work on a line, were haphazardly place billboards. They were likely the only source of income that the many purveyors of heartland agriculture were likely eaking out in an attempt at a meager existence. Most of these advertised the next fast food restaurant, a truck stop, or an experimental pharmaceutical that were all meant to separate the commuting consumer from their hard earned cash. But one such panel of large wallpapered advertising stood out to me, and when I read it, it was like an epiphany, it was the truest, purest thing that ever happened to me.

The day began as so many before had; the three S's: a shower, a shit and a shave, very likely in that exact order. I did, as I always did when my alarm clock began screaming at 3 am., jump from my bed, and began the same routine I followed every morning. I made myself some coffee, and toast, dressed and grabbed the lunch I'd made myself the night before, and walked the front door of my old farmhouse. I lived then, in something I think the realtor called a converted community. This basically meant that I lived on a large plot of farmland, which had been sold by a family that could no longer afford. On this farmland were a vast number of nearly identical homes, most of which were still being built. This was fine, I didn't mind the construction, and I got a great deal on the house, which I felt had plenty of character.

I pulled out of my driveway, which I imagine used to run for nearly a mile before reaching the highway, but had been replaced with a street just a few feet from my front door, and began my commute. Normally, I would listen to the radio, because the chatter was always minimal in so early in the day and it didn't seem as though they even sold much advertising for that block either, but being a Thursday, everything 96.3 played from about 1 a.m until the morning crew started at 6 a.m. was the XtReme DethMetal Block!, or something of that nature. Either way, the moment my car revved to life, the radio began blasting sounds that I could scarcely call music, and rather than put a CD in the deck, I just shut it off, and listened to the soothing sounds of my engine. Even without a muffler, it was still much better.

So, nearly half an hour later, and I'm passing a billboard that would change my life, and as I was contemplating the words I'd just read, it was too late that I realized I wasn't paying attention to the road. The thud and crunching sounds were sickening. The crack of the windshield shattering was deafening, the screeching of my tires on the pavement was merely the punchline to a cruel joke. It was a woman. Of that, there could be no doubt, but not just any woman, a woman who was wearing what appeared to be formal wear, possibly even a wedding dress. It's amazing the things that your mind latches onto in moments like these.

My forehead was stinging, pain that was made ten fold by the feeling in my neck. I lay there, hugging the steering wheel, panting, the world around me swimming slightly. It took some time before I was able to put the events of the previous 20 seconds together well enough to recognize what the image in the puzzle was, even if I didn't quite have all the pieces. I was sideways across both lanes of traffic on Old County Road 18, steam billowing from under my crumpled hood, and most of the windshield now laying on both myself and the passenger seat. But, and this realization was moments in the making, I'd just hit someone in the highway, travelling at least 75 miles per hour.

something amazing is about to happen to you.

I ambled out of the car, stars revolving around my head, much like a scene from a Tom and Jerry cartoon, except far more painful. My vision was fading in and out, and I was having a really hard time thinking straight. It was similar to that feeling you get when you are past the point of drunk, and you realize you are probably about to die, but what the hell were you about to do? I took a deep breath, and remembered that I just hit someone. I glanced down at the peeling paint of my hood, which was dented, but there was no blood. Similarly, there was no blood on the windshield, though it was cracked, like the fingers of an intricate spider web spreading from a central spot.

I turned around to check behind the car, when it struck me. Where'd she go? I'd just hit someone, that was for sure, but I couldn't find her. There was no blood, and no evidence of a woman waering a wedding dress. I walked around the car a few times, confused. That confusion, however, began to melt into fear. There's no way she would have just gotten up after that, but I can't imagine having thrown her so far I couldn't see her now.

I decided that it would best to stand still for a moment, and try and put everything together. The ringing in my ears was slowly changing octaves, moving down a in slow progression, but it was also becoming more subtle as well. In addition, the stars were starting to slow, and the muddy feeling of the world spining around was starting to wash away, as well. This helped some, because I no longer thought I was going to pass out and die, but where could the have gone. I couldn't have imagined that. No more than it could have been a deer in that dress. Far too much cleavage for that.

I stared at the farm field to my left, where ears of corn were working their way up, eager to be measured against some mystical elephant. There was nothing out there, although it was still pretty dark, a white dress would stand out fairly well against the canvas. He turned around and checked out the wooded area that occupied the better part of the right side of the road, and extending out for miles and miles, a part of an old park reserve smack dab in the middle of farm country. Again, he couldn't see her anywhere. He caught himself panning up into the trees, before he realized how silly this was.

Then there was a movement. It was quick, but he was sure I'd seen it. And, were it not for the fact that my mind was functioning well enough to tell my that it couldn't be, I would swear that it was a woman in a long, flowing, white dress, running through the trees, maybe 5 yards into the tree blind. Of course, there was no way I was going after her. I'd seen to many horror movies to know that it was the wrong thing to do.

And this decision, while utterly correct in everyway, was made entirely moot by the sound of screaming. Not just screaming, but a gut wrenching, blood curdling, mind numbing scream. It started loud, and then somehow grew louder and louder.

The voice, it was screaming, "HELP ME!"