Flies on the Windscreen
You know how much I like to drive my car. It is an impressive vehicle. It is fast, attractive and demonstrates to the world beyond just how superior I am to other road users as I surge past them with just the slightest pressure on the accelerator. Cocooned inside this metal shell I race from place to place in order to carry out my engagements. Gathering fuel in this place, ensuring a devaluation is doled out in that place and dropping by at the other place to open the passenger door and tempt you to clamber back in to the passenger seat with a winning smile and a reassurance that last time was a mistake. You remember last time don’t you? When I took you along the motorway and then dumped you there leaving you with a long walk back. How could you forget? You still have the blisters and the aching legs haven’t you? Well, climb in and allow me to ease your suffering. I promise I won’t leave you in the middle of the motorway again, distraught and facing a lengthy walk home. No, I am sorry about that. Why did I do that? Let’s not get into all that now, there is plenty to see and I would rather show you how good I can be than go over that old ground again. That was in the past and we both need to move on if we are going to make this work. I pat the leather seat invitingly as you hover by the passenger door. You look at it with a mixture of longing and wariness.
“You need to hurry up if you are getting in, there are plenty of others who want to sit there,”I observe as I look over your shoulder. You spin around and see several people, mainly women but some men, advancing towards you along the motorway. They are running and as they get nearer you can hear them shouting as they plead for me to wait. You stand for an instant and watch the nearing mob, limbs flailing as they hurtle towards us.
“They will soon be on you and they will trample you into the ground in order to get into here,” I warn.
This jolts you into action and you get into the car, slamming the door closed and pressing the lock button.
“Go, go!” you urge as the admiring mob gets ever closer. I smile to myself as I press down on the accelerator and we drive away leaving the disappointed mob stood in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes as they watch you and I race away across the empty motorway ahead of us. I turn and look at you and already I can see that you feel comfortable as you sink into the luxury of the passenger seat. You have slipped your worn down and scuffed shoes off allowing your sore and blistered feet to sink into the thick carpet which lines your side of the car. I hear you give a little sigh of contentment as your tilt your head back.
“Always feels good to get back in this car doesn’t it?” I ask.
You nod and reach out a hand towards me touching me on the arm.
“It is a beautiful day,” I remark as I nod my head towards the windscreen. You give a little gasp as the clouded horizon which existed only a few moments ago has somehow vanished and you are staring at the bright blue sky and a golden, blazing sun.
“Where did that come from?” you wonder aloud and look at me. I say nothing but let you reach your own conclusion about how everything is always better when you are with me.
“Are you thirsty? You look parched,” I comment and motion to a drink held in one of the cup holders next to you. You pick it up and suck the cool, delicious liquid through the straw as I continue to hurtle along the motorway. You gaze out of the window as the embankments which normally grip the motorway and hide your view of what is beyond have now disappeared. Instead, you are afforded a breathtaking view of the undulating countryside which rolls away to the snow-topped hills in the distance. The land is kissed by golden light, full trees dotted here and there, the whole scene idyllic and just as you always imagine the countryside to look. It is as if I can read your thoughts and show you what you want to see. You have always thought that. I appear to have some sixth sense which enables me to create the very scene or environment that delights you the most and accords with what you want to see. You missed that when you were trudging along that bleak and grey motorway beneath the leaden firmament.
You continue to gaze through the windscreen, marvelling at the scenery outside, the beauty and the serenity breath taking, along with the absence of anyone else. Your eyes are wide looking at the vast scene that unfolds beyond the windscreen as you enjoy the comfort of my ride. So transfixed are you by what you see outside of my car you fail to notice the dots and specks which are forming on the windscreen. You are oblivious to the flies that smash against the glass, their insignificant lives obliterated in an instant by my driving forward at such speed and with such intent. The insects never saw me coming, flying along, blissfully unaware of what was hurtling towards them and would wipe them out in an instant. More and more bloody smears coat the windscreen and you still do not see them as they begin to mount up. I keep glancing at you but you are so transfixed by the beauty outside that the increasing death toll under your nose is going unnoticed. I do not activate the windscreen wash nor the wipers preferring to keep this carnage in full view, yet this obvious massacre is not countenanced by you. I allow myself a little smile as my test confirms what I knew would be the case. Just like a fly on the windscreen you have little idea just how close you are to such danger, how your existence hangs in the balance and how it is all down to me.
25 thoughts on “Flies on the Windscreen”
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I love the way you write.
Thank you Alaina, tell everybody you know.
Ah, you make me chuckle! Your description of the first bugs losing their lives on your windscreen are just like my thoughts, then you go too far and turn all narcy. I’m glad your date was fully appreciating her precious golden time before her doom. Sounds so luxurious, lovely drive, who would know you’re sitting there delighting in splattered bugs and devaluation, I guess it wasn’t really golden anymore after all.
Hauntingly surreal but real. Dear God have mercy on us all. Before leaving my husband, Narc., I went to leadership for help. They were deceived, said the poor man only needed more respect, I was not submissive enough. I said to them ‘but what if deep down he doesn’t respect himself? Nothing will ever fill that’ I found in this one formidable way I did respect him indeed. In his ability to effortlessly ‘love’ and destroy me in the same breath. Malignant yet carried off as if he is all innocence . Perfect example HG thank you for the image. You are brilliant.
‘Just like a fly on the windscreen you have little idea just how close you are to such danger, how your existence hangs in the balance and how it is all down to me’.
HG, you are just a person, a human being like the rest of all us human beings with qualities, flaws, unhelpful behaviours, helpful behaviours. You are not a god with the power to destroy or create. Maybe in the fantastical narcissistic bubble, but this control and power is just an illusion, that the people you get involved with would do well to realise. You eat, sleep, live, piss and shit, (to be crude), like the rest of us mortals.
Belief in the Divine Right of Kings died out a long time ago.
Not here it hasn’t Gem.
Ha well okay then…King Henry Tudor! Carry on! Off with their heads…
That’s more like it!!
DN, had a beautiful, expensive car (we couldn’t afford it but what a narc wants…). I often joked about him liking the car more than me bc he did spend hours wahing and waxing it. Jokes on me now…pretty sure he did like it more than me.
I made him get rid of it after he got caught going over 100 with an expired licence and had to spend a weekend in jail bc he was going 30 over the speed limit. He would frequently remind me how much he missed that car and how I MADE him get rid of it.
Another lesson taught… You can not trust a narc period. It has been such a roller coaster ride and today is the day I get off. Thanks for the posting HG. This will be difficult emotionally but worth it.
That’s my favourite post. I will never forget when I read it first time…
i remember this post from the past. That inbetween admiration and awe about your marvelous writting skills.. brought the fear back.. not anymore…
now just awe and admiration 💖😘
and BTW I have bought some of your books…
Thank you Christina, I know you will find them interesting and insightful.
Christina,
You have a leak in your fuel tank. U just gave some up by taunting him and then asking him to engage you offline and then provide you with an answer to your question.
Did you not see how you fueled him?
Don’t hate on his “groupies” they all have a choice. He exploits this and it’s the most entertaining part of the show, well besides my clever comments. 😉
So I have a hatred toward you and a connection since I have suffered from your kind. I get it…I am willing to admit that. Doesn’t mean that I will like everything you post…nor will I praise you like you seem to have with some females that follow you. I am not like that. I will be civil towards you only because I realize that I have let someone in of your kind. I am willing to learn from you…but, make no mistake that I won’t provide you fuel like some of the tarts that follow you. I will NEVER succumb to your entries as a child or adult chasing love. If you care to answer I would love to hear it even if it means offline. I doubt you have the courage…but if you can be so aware of who you are….than I want to know why you can triangulate someone who loved you and would never do that to you. He never had freaky sex situations, but he lost interest in me early on and I always wondered why.
I asked him why early on and he would deflect and blame me….that he tried and I didn’t accept his advances….hello? Umm…..before him I never felt that I misinterpreted a man who wanted me. How can the switch go so quickly from someone you love to someone you hate?
What a refreshingly honest and genuine post. I agree Christina, people should be here to help heal from narcissistic abuse and accumulate knowledge to help them do so to move forward…I am almost there.
This post was brought to you by…. Disassociation of feelings.
Paid for by the Universal Magic trickery of Narcissists, Sociopaths and Physcopaths worldwide.
Awesome … exactly … ugh
OK HG….I give….what is up with you not posting my responses? I am curious….is it because I was pissed at you for being what my ex was? Are you pissed because I see through you? Do you think that you are superior? I am just curious as to why you haven’t responded.
Hi Christina, nothing to do with you being pissed. I read everything that is posted and like to consider everything that people take the time to post to consider if I can add anything and naturally if a question has been posed, to answer it. I do have other things going on in my life so sometimes there will be a delay in replying and sometimes it might be a few days, depending on other matters and the volume of comments. You will always get a response.
Yes I do regard myself as superior by the way, since you mentioned it, but you knew that anyway didn’t you?
Your car is like your armour, feeding into your power allowing you to exude that smooth, alluring confidence. You are camouflaged as a true predator in this hunting for your prey that you’ve kept a watchful eye out for the perfect prey.
Of course she gets in.
This reminds me of a quote by Carl Jung, “When an inner situation is not made conscious, it appears outside of you as fate.”
Both have deep inner wounds and they seek each other out despite all the danger signs right under their noses.
Your car is like a Sherman tank, and you roll through in it, obliterating all in sight, poking your head out every so often to remind people how good you look.
Can’t breathe
H g tells it like it is again. Santa Claus bar comes back after disappearing bringing gifts. Knowing I don’t eat carbs….fresh San Francisco sourdough bread. Smack! Right on the windshield…