Post by Eli Ackerman on Jun 18, 2009 15:10:18 GMT -8
falling about .
you took a left off last laugh lane .
[/font][/color][/size]It wasn't only the boredom he kept running into at home that made Eli hop into his flashy 1950's Skyliner and drive down to the beach, or the need to be outside on such a nice day, but rather the calling of the golden hour, the time between five and six pm that cast everything in a beautiful sun kissed tint. The great outdoors was calling to him, and his photographer's ear (much less common than the photographer's eye) had heard, and Eli was gifted with a sudden inspiration. He dug out his 88 millimeter camera at once and, after the engine of the ancient car stalled twice, was on his way. Perhaps it was the influence of the car's name, but it was the scape of the city sky that he craved, the cliché beauty that, after being over-used in so many art forms, wasn't as appreciated as it should have been. A skyline, both visually and verbally poetic. It was high time such a thing was appreciated.[/blockquote][/color]
The car gave a grand sputter, an exceptionally ugly noise, enough of one to cause Eli to pull over by the beach, as he knew what that sound meant. That was Noise #4. And of all the problematic noises, #4 was the worst. Kind of like someone's soul was dying, throwing up, and scratching its especially long nails across a chalkboard simultaneously. The old Skyliner looked brand new: a still-retractable white hood (rare for its age) and a sparkling cherry-red body, the car was practically Grease Lightning. Except for the engine. Much unlike the famous, powerful, street-racing greaser car, Eli's sputtered and coughed at him at the most unintelligible times. Like now, when he simply wanted to appreciate the man-made beauty of the world. Of course, Eli could merely drive cars, fixing them wasn't anywhere near in his range of talents. The car had cost him nothing, as it was a present from Dan's grandchild-loving, richer-than-God parents, despite the fact that Eli was technically not their grandchild. Maybe that's why the car was so great but the engine was so useless: he was only an almost-grandchild to them.
Eli let out a sigh and got out of the car, there was nothing he could do other than pop the hood, stare at the mess of machinery and hope someone driving by knew their way around the inside of a car. From what he could tell, the engine wasn't letting out intimidating smoke like it did when the car made Noise #2, the most uncommon and severe of the problems, and nothing was obviously out of place like Noise #5 situations. Noise #'s 1 and 3 had something to do with a shortage of gas and oil, or so he thought. Noise #4 was the tricky one that had given him no clues. The car was so impressive, and when the engine decided it was feeling good, it showed. Now, however, it was embarrassing, he almost didn't want anyone to stop by. But, it was the beach; there would undoubtedly be people around to see this horrible piece of wonder, especially on such a nice day like today. This must have been his punishment for taking the lazy way out of this situation and driving rather than walking to a good vantage point.
“Awesome…” Eli muttered to himself as he looked at the sun in the sky. Just one shot, only one, that was all he was asking for. His inspiration would have to be put on hold for the moment. Or the hour. Or maybe even the day. Why he was so spontaneously fascinated by a city skyline was beyond him, as it was man-made and not of the natural clichés such as sunsets and thunder storms. It probably was the car, as it practically owned Eli rather than vice versa. Seriously, the automobile had him jumping through hoops since he first started driving it. Such as situations like these, where he could spend hours simply trying to get it working. This car was a determining variable in everything he did. Some would say that his relationship with a car was an obsession, and extremely unhealthy. There were some points in time where the boy would agree with the accusation. Eli had counted thirty seven times he had to walk home and get help from the slightly-car-savvy Dan. Of course, in return Eli would have to allow Dan use of the car. The help-to-award ratio seemed to be something like one hour of help to three tanks of gas worth of driving. And anyone wondered why Eli was so stubborn to allow Dan the car.
Deep down, Eli knew the Skyliner was on its way out, but today was no different: He sighed and leaned against the passenger-side door, looking out at the beach, and deciding that with help, he could keep it away from the light at the end of the tunnel.
just sounding it out .
[/font][/color]Status: Complete[/blockquote][/color]
Word Count: 822
Notes: My muse was up past its bedtime during the last few paragraphs ><'
you're not coming back again .
