Oblivion: Mona Nova
By A. Maus (Vosyl)

	Dust was kicking in a hazy trail of burning frenzy of diesel, speed and the disturbed leaves. Mona's grip of the handle bars tightened. Her metallic two wheeled beast rumbled as She raced past  trees to the settling scarlet sun. Startled hares and squirrels fled the scene. Mona lowered her body, sleek and powerful she let loose a low roar, joined with her motorcycles engine's purr.
	It stirred within her that violent yet pleasing rage. Faster and faster she rode to the shrieking rumble of the steel one eyed beast. Charging faster the spiraling dried road of dead leaves and few fracturing sticks. Mona was going towards the edge, far away from the putrid florescence of the city lights, from tricky dates, and her cynic of a room mate. The sun climbing over the horizon, the distant inferno of illumination never done in it's constant spin. Wheels churning against the ground in a tight grip. Mona purrs loudly, drowned out by the pump of cylindars, she was a ball of consuming lust, hit with her unmatched desire; always let down or abandoned, and like the slowly setting star it was spinning in her. Life revolving as people orbital in their own spins.
	She hit up an Iguana, inspector of the yard. But he thought she was a whore. Her grip tightened, and gain in speed was passing fifty miles per hour. She makes the twisting turn around a corner to a clear intersection road between the two cities. The sunlight fading fast as the night takes over. The anguish of her failed dates coupled with the rising tension, her body yearning and the mechanical vibrations delivering what she needs. A Blissed hiss, from the tawny feline and her trustworthy steed. The front wheel in the process of pulling up, and clashing back down. Speed breaching seventy miles per hour. She concentrated on the road, a simple slip or false turn and she'll be a statistical fatality, for her solo misadventure. An abuse of a motorized vehicle she knew no-one suspected of her, but would embarrass her lasting memory. Mona kept her legs an inch away from the motorcycle's motor, she had a nasty burn from coming in contact years before, but she slide her waist against the vibrations of the seat. She peaked at eighty six miles per hour, Her velocity steadily dropping. Mona squealing and buckling with her arms in a death grip on the handlebars, steering as best she could carefully. Sixty because Fifty miles per hour. She was easing the adrenaline infused bliss. Fifty became forty, and Mona Span the Motorcycle down and thus started her descent back to the city. The brim of orange sky turning a turquoise shade of night. Mona was seeing stars. Fast became slow, Day became night. Mona's passions became one of a soft slumbering purr, with a satisfied smile. The problems of the days before, just the solutions of the nights ahead. It was going to be a long night, and she enjoyed closing the distance, She was the journey, and the adventure, she thought. The Highs and Lows, and the slow or erratic transition.
	The low brimming purr, her flickering light illuminating ahead, she would find her mark that'll scratch all her wrong itches, to soothe her ills, and render her wiles more at ease. She'd ride them just as hard and long into the dying day as she had done. Mona purred out into the settling darkness, the night is young and she'll take it for as long as it goes. She knew just the Fox, sweet and young and rather coy who wanted an apprenticeship and some new tattoos at her parlour. Business becomes pleasure with work you so longingly enjoy. An Adventurous new affair was just fifty miles away, humming in quick through the shrivelled trees. 

She was the passion of the sun, and the mystery the night holds. The adventure of life, and the new directions it takes. The riled heartbeat of the metallic beast, fibres of alloy and a grip that will burn her renewed energy into him. Tit for that tat, and he'll get a chocolate kit-kat.