The Car-Crash

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
It's a sad short-story I wrote this morning. It was inspired by a true story, though don't worry, my dad's not dead. I guess I'm just in a dark mood. (ha, ha) I hope you enjoy! Feel free to tell me what you think about it, and to give me creative criticism. I can take it. Just be nice about it, please. There also might be some spelling and grammar errors. I'd be very grateful for you to point those out, as well.

Thank you, and have a nice day!

Submitted: December 08, 2007

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Submitted: December 08, 2007

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"That movie was horrible!" I said to my mom as we left the movie theatre that dark friday night. "I'm sorry about that, Julia. The reviews were bad, but I decided that since movie reviews are seldom right, it would probably be okay." I laughed. We climbed into the car and drove away, discussing all the problems with the movie we had seen. We came to the usually-busy intersection, and I observed that it was even busier than usual tonight. I noticed that there seemed to be something blocking the traffic, which was slowly creeping along. As we neared the area where the barrier seemed to be, the sounds of sirens filled our ears. We were growing ever nearer.

Finally, we were among those at the front of the line and we could see what the problem was, though I'm sure we could have already guessed. There, almost immediately in front of us, were two cars, one with only a crunched bumper, but the other was completely annihilated. I prayed no one was still occupying the squashed car. I leaned forward and squinted through the veil of darkness. The main sources of light were the flashing lights of the ambulances and police cars. Finally, I could get a clear look of the squashed car, and to this day I wish I hadn't. Because in that completely demolished car was the also demolished body of a man, still, unmoving, calm, unlike the scene which surrounded him. I cringed, and felt a tear well up in my eye. I blinked it back. I continued watching.

A police man was now reaching into the front of the car, past the man. He revealed a man's wallet. He looked through it, probably for some sort of identity, or a number to call. Which made me think: did this man have a wife? a son or daughter? parents who loved him? I was pretty sure I knew the answer, another thing I wish I didn't know. More tears joined the existing ones on my stained face. My mom was watching the line in front of her, sneaking peeks at the dreadful scene. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we were driving again. "I'm sorry you had to see that," said my mom, also blinking back tears. We drove the rest of the way home in silence.

 

That night, I had trouble sleeping. I was thinking about how that man's family must feel, or did they even know yet? I wished I knew, though if I did know, I knew I'd wish I didn't. I thought about my own father, and how I'd feel if that had been him. And what if it had been me? As much as I didn't feel like sleeping, my eyes finally shut and I drifted into a deep, yet somehow restless, sleep.

 

"Julia! Julia, it's time for school!" shouted my mom from the breakfast room. I moaned sleepily in response. I heard my mom sigh. I waited. Nothing. Strange, I thought, this is normally when my dad comes in, picks me up by my feet, and lands me back on my bed, now completely awake. Still nothing. I frowned. I attempted to fall back asleep, but something was making me uneasy. So I got up, got dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast.

My mom was holding the phone to her ear and weeping, softly at first, then loudly, passionately. I knew something was very wrong. She saw me and hung up the phone. Her eyes showed her desperation and anguish. I prepared for the worst as she opened her mouth to speak. No sound came out. She choked back her tears, then sobbed, "It's-it's your father. He's b-been in an ac-accident, and h-he..." she swallowed hard, and, sobbing even harder now, said, "I-I'm so sorry, Julia. So sorry."

 

And I knew then that he was gone. Forever. Never coming back. I made to cry, too, but no tears came. I frowned. Why couldn't I cry? I stammered, "When d-d-did it happen? H-how... Why?" She beckoned me to come closer and pulled me into a tight hug. I just stood next to her. Tears were coming now. Quickly. I let them slide down my cheek and drop to the floor. After awhile I pulled away. I blinked hard and swallowed. "M-mom? I... I should get to school now." She looked into my eyes, as if reading them carefully. "No," she replied. "No, you should go back to bed and get some rest now. It might help. Why don't you sleep in the guest room? It'll be quieter for you there." I nodded gloomily and walked up the stairs, though I felt as if I was just dreaming this whole thing. It couldn't be real. It just couldn't be! I slipped into the guest bed and fell into a deep yet somehow restless sleep.

"Julia! Julia, it's time for school!" shouted my mom from the breakfast room. I moaned sleepily in response, then looked around. I began to remember something... something from a dream I had had... It started all coming back to me. I was in my own room, not the guest room. It had all been a dream! And what a horrible dream it had been. I waited. Nothing. Strange, I thought, this is normally when my dad comes in, picks me up by my feet, and lands me back on my bed, then completely awake. Still nothing. I frowned. But it had all been a dream! My dad was still alive! I threw on my bath-robe and raced downstairs, where my mom was holding the phone to her ear and weeping, softly at first, then loudly, passionately. No. The dream -- it was true! I began to cry as I let myself crumble to the hard, cold floor.

 

The End

 


© Copyright 2017 Alice Dwaino. All rights reserved.

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