Impact

Reads: 107  | Likes: 2  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 2

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic


A POV story written to show the loss of life, of love, of everything when one is upset.

Submitted: May 20, 2018

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Submitted: May 20, 2018

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Impact


 

The car hit with such force, it rendered you unconscious. Hours of sun and heat filled the car as you lay there, oblivious to the climbing temperatures and even higher risen dangers. You groggily come to from the collision, not knowing precisely what transpired, but assess your situation slowly and methodically.

You raise your arm to adjust the seatbelt hugging tightly across your neck, only to feel a darting pain explode into your vision, blurring the wrecked view around you momentarily. Your arm is snapped into pieces like a spiral of green branches twisted without separating. Multiple fractures all over your body render you almost completely immobile, but fully alert. The pain screams across your body suddenly, needle like and persistent as the heat in the car.

Besides the warmth escalating inside the car, you notice the worst possible smell you could. Gasoline. A strong, pungent stink corroding your nostrils and lungs and almost sickly sweet. You look through the spider web cracked glass to see sky above, and dirt below. The windshield a series of splinters and shards like a roadmap of a city, imperceptible to see anything but a faint shine.

You sit, pondering about the possible outcomes to happen. You had just left, so someone will definitely pass by and notice upon the car, but you feel like you've been there for days. Thirst takes hold, making you smack dry cracked lips together. Your calloused tongue grazing across even drier teeth. You close your eyes, waiting for rescue, reminiscing why you would leave in such anger. Foolish to leave without saying "I love you". You stare to drift back into unconsciousness again, with your last thought being a pleasant one.

You're sitting with your loved one. Holding hands, and saying just months ago that you would never get mad and walk away. You didn't walk. You drove. Fast. To escape that pain, the acrimony, just to catch your breath. unbeknownst to you, it was your last.


© Copyright 2018 Gene K. Barnes. All rights reserved.

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