28th September 2017

creative writting #NO. 3

 

The car is bursting with sound of three teenage boys laughing and singing along to music. Windows down and shirts off, with elbows out the window, the warm air caresses their skin. They are celebrating the end of exams and the start of the holidays.

It’s a classic summer evening, clear skies with stretched shadows reaching out of trees, thirsty brown grass dances in the wind, and the sun teases the hill tops moments before hiding behind the distant mountains. The sound of tractors in the field and birds singing goes unnoticed.

Engrossed in conversation we round the bend and head up the hill, momentarily blinded by the glare of the sun.  Suddenly the car jolts as the sickening sound of impact vibrates through the car. The violent interruption smashes the windscreen to a thousand pieces shattering the jovial atmosphere.

Your body slams into the seatbelt as the car staggers to a halt. Your body is shaking involuntarily, it seems like your hand is not connected to your brain – you try to open the door but your arm won’t move, you feel sick. What the hell just happened? – you shove the door open as you fall out and vomit on the ground, the stench of regurgitated acid burning in your nose. – other smells… petrol, burnt rubber, you look back to see a nightmare. What once was a motorbike is now largely embedded in the car, the remains are torn into hundreds of pieces, scattered across the road. The once smooth car looks more like a transformer moments from changing into a robot, with sharp corners and metal shards jabbing the air.

A figure lays motionless across the road, like a damn, with blood in its reservoir, slowly trickling down the hill. An arm has one too many kinks and protrudes in a unhuman direction. you see the red skin like freshly ground mince revealing itself from the tears in a black leather jacket, you vomit again. Your legs are like jelly, What the fuck just happened.?

You just killed a man.

 

you wake up and realise you were dreaming, again. The same scene that repeats its self almost every night, every night since the crash. you remember the three children whose father you killed, the grief you created

you think about every birthday he will miss and the memories that wont be made. You know you will carry this burden wherever you go. Your life has changed forever. You never meant any harm, you were just a kid having fun with your mates, your whole life ahead of you.

 

 

 

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About Wilfred

I an English student at Mt Aspiring College

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