Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

Ellen drove into the darkness, leaving the restless house she called home behind. Her husband and kids were fast asleep in the new two-story house that Ellen worked so hard to keep clean. They had finally bought their dream home when John became a partner in the law firm he worked for. Now all he did was work, while Ellen was left with three children who knew how to do nothing except play.

Insomnia and loneliness were Ellen’s reward for agreeing to become a housewife. Her nightly drives were the only cure for her restlessness. She had tried pills, chamomile tea, and lavender under her pillow, but nothing worked. The drive was the only cure.

Sometimes she would whisper to the darkness during her drives. She would whisper things that she could never speak to the daylight—things like “what if I just keep driving and never turn back?” or “what if I drove off the next bridge, would rest come then?”

The darkness never judged her musings, never told her she was crazy for saying such things. Night was the perfect companion, the perfect lover. Night always listened without interrupting, surrounding Ellen. It was an all-encompassing force, and soothed Ellen when nothing else could.

Inhaling deeply, Ellen accelerated. “Night is silence,” she whispered, “Death is silence.” The car sped forward, heading nowhere. Nowhere was darkness.

A light in the East interrupted Ellen’s whisperings. The sun was waking from his slumbers. Ellen slowed the car, stopping in the middle of the now familiar road. The morning light fell on her arms, warming her chilled flesh. Turing the car around, Ellen returned home. John and the children would be awake soon.