The Crash

November 19, 2008
By Joshua Wilson, El Dorado, KS

The Crash
There was a high-pitched screech as the tires burnt across the pavement. The occupants of the car became motionless. The tree resisted the impact. It didn’t move an inch; if it weren’t for the battered steel and shattered glass wrapping around its trunk, it would look as if the collision hadn’t occurred at all.

Mommy and daddy received most of the force. Baby boy was in the backseat, terrified, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Mommy!” Nothing “Mommy…Daddy!” Once again, silence. Daddy was hunched forward with his face plowed against the steering wheel, creating a constant ‘honk’. Mommy was hunched forward as well. Her fallen hair concealed her face. On the dashboard in front of her was a deep dent splattered with blood.

The car’s horn was deafening. Timmy, the sweet baby boy, struggled to get out of his car seat. He felt a sharp pain in his left leg. The seat’s buckle was pinned against the (now concave) side of the vehicle. The honking became nothing more than a whisper, then nothing; silence. Light became darkness as Timmy closed his eyes.

A scream. Timmy, now eleven, violently woke up. It’s been six years, but he still has nightmares about that tragic day at least twice a day. He can barely remember his parents. His aunt always said they were great people and that they loved him so much, but he cannot remember. His only memory is the day they perished.

He cursed himself for it. It was his fault. The weather forecaster said it was going to rain. It was almost a sure prediction. But baby boy still wanted to go the zoo to celebrate his birthday. His birthday… On the day that was supposed to one of the best of the year, he received the worst present ever. Instead of a being given gift, he had his two most valued objects taken away.

On his birthday. “Happy birthday, kiddo!” his dad said, as he patted baby boy’s hair while loading him into the car. He had just got home. Timmy and his mom were up all morning making cake, but when daddy got home he didn’t want a bite. He said they should not waste any time; they needed to get on the road.

The drive was fine. For most of the ride there were barely any bumps. The stereo played the top hits of the Beatles; mommy really enjoyed the oldies. Timmy lazily watched the countryside go by. He saw cows. He always wanted to pet one. Big animals really intrigued him.

There was a pickup truck in front of them with cubes of hay. A half-smoked cigarette flew out of the driver’s window and hit Timmy’s dad’s window-shield. Daddy called the truck driver a word mommy didn’t like. She covered baby boy’s ears.

It all happened so fast. Timmy didn’t see the cause, but two the hay bails fell off the back. Daddy swerved to the side, dodging one. The other was hit, putting the car off balance and causing it to hit the tree. That damn tree. There was only one tree by the highway within twenty-seven miles, and yet we managed to hit it.

And that’s how it happened. Mommy and daddy dead up front, baby boy only injured in the back. In time he was able to loosed the belt and get out. It was hard to walk. Cattle were in a field just a few feet away. He had no desire to pet one anymore. Baby boy sat with his motionless parents for almost two hours until another car passed.

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