You are on a peaceful evening ride. You've been everywhere on the countryside. But you have never been to Cross Road. 

Yes, they tell you to stay away from it. But temptation builds. 
You simply must go down the road, as if something is calling you there. It's a nice peaceful looking road. Why do they say stay away from it? 

So you go on the road. 
Ahh, yes. Smooth gravel, not so hard on the tires. 
You come up to a highway. The street name is Cross. 
Being that the road dead ends shortly across the highway, you decide to take a turn. 
You turn left; heading westward towards the setting sun, it's getting darker. 

You pass a roadside cross, and hang your head in respect to the person who died. You are sad for his loved ones. Losing a loved one on a highway is a terrible thing. 

You continue driving. It's getting darker and you want to go home. 
You pass another cross. 
This cross has the name "Jane" written on it. You hang your head again in her respect. 
You continue driving. A mile ahead, you see a few more crosses. 
Must have been a family. How sad. Yet you carry on. 
You see another, an another, more crosses by the dozen. 
You are getting scared. The sun has just set, the light is preparing its slumber. You see crosses on both sides of the highway. Every 2 feet. Every 1 foot. Half-foot. They're practically touching. 
You look up to the road, and you see a flash of light. 

A few days later, I ride down a small road called Cross Road. 
I encounter a highway called Cross. 
I see the crosses. Growing denser and denser. 
A few miles down, I see skid marks, and a cross with your name on it. 
I stop and lay flowers next to it, and hang my head in your respect. 
I re-enter my car. 
And I see a flash of light.