Taking The Journey Of The Lighted Path
It was the time of year, too early for Christmas but the holiday was just around the corner when a foreign spy with model looks was working overtime in a rural land that had a neighbor who not only had an overbearing personality but a brand name known worldwide.
Hours ago, Athwaaq ditched her fashion show boots for more comfortable sneakers that were wore torn in some areas. “I am beyondelle,” she said to herself trying to keep her language clean while behind the wheel driving the speed limit. All of a sudden the radio inside her car was interrupted with a ring tone noting a phone call. Pressing the button on the steering wheel Atwaaq answered.
“Athwaaq,” the voice sounded in the car.
“I am here,” she answered while pulling off the road to a safe spot on the rural paved highway.
‘How is it going there in the rural world?
“We’ll I have seen more development on the Appian Way,” Athwaaq was being sarcastic as she took a second to notice the relaxing flat calm landscape.
“Is there a problem with that?”
“Well I am hungry and there is nowhere to eat.”
There was silence on the other land then another voice came on, “we have done some risky analysis on the rural world pockets and have found finding food a major issue.”
“So, is that enough to build build build where every exit has the same places each twenty miles,”
Once again there was silence and another voice different from the other two invaded the conversation, “AQ do you remember why we named you Athwaaq?”
“You said I seemed to have a spicy image, loved shopping and at times was cold as Antarctica.”
When the phone meeting wined down and ended Athwaaq thought about the definition of “love shopping and was as cold as Antarctica” for a moment. As the sun went below the horizon it seemed like there was a twinkling town that was right in front of her and getting closer the sounds of the holiday appeared in a dream like fantasy. Pulling into a parking spot she quickly stepped out of the car with her cell phone camera ready for any information needed to send back to the big house. Walking around the village the spirit could be easily interpreted and the diplomatic tourist could feel the energetic pulses in her body.
Approaching someone that resembled law enforcement with the message “Passion Police” on his back and the front revealed a tall, dark handsome individual.
“So, tell me,” she interrupted his observing the kids doing the twist n shout, “what is the Passion Police?”
“It’s a joke my dear,” he responded, “we want our residents to express their emotions of love not hate, hopefully it will make the chump change. We even have music from the exclusive symphony, they are so exclusive they only play once a year,” he paused.
“And that is here just to drive the chump nuts,” then continued.
Turning her attention to the festive activities she started to laugh at all the excitement in the middle of nowhere. “Who is the chump who needs to change?”
“He lives in the mansion across the border, they can see our town here and we know he watches all our passion and there is nothing better than making the enemy jealous when showing our true zest for life.”
“I guess party on Passion police,” Athwaaq nicely ended the conversation.
Later in the evening after a few drinks with Vodka inserted Athwaaq found a place to stay that was right next to a stable. Amazingly they had accommodations set aside for the visitor and when she was safely inside the room the spy flipped open her cell phone.
“Chief,” Athwaaq started to leave the message on a tape recording, “I found this quaint outpost that is claiming if they party throughout the holiday season they can make their enemy across the border jealous,” she reported the message without slurring, “I want to study this military strategy it sounds interesting, don’t worry I have enough allowance to make it through the next couple months,” she made it clear.
“And to be honest, Chief, there is more action here then the Waffle House at Exit 33.”
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