One Cold Death
I looked out my window once to see the mother of pearl clouds. That seemed to glide through the sky with ease; only to find myself emasculated by the impressions of the world, like your body refusing to fight off a disease. It all came at once, destined like a mandatory curse, but I wished time could be trans- dimensional, because if it can be stopped, it can surely be reversed. Every day I dwell on it, every day it hurts. At day time, I’m usually sad, but at night, it’s even worse.
That day plays over and over again; it’s a vivid nightmare that forever haunts me. She was my genesis, my revelation, my everything. I turned over to my side to get more air and a better view of the sky. I remember it was a cold rainy day; a perfect day for someone to die. I got the wonderful call around two; she said she was pregnant, so our patience had paid off, and our dreams had finally come true. Like an innocent infant who never knew stress, the rest of my day passed by briefly. It was surely one of my best. At the end of the day, though exhausted and excited, I was ready to meet my wife who was patiently waiting at home. I got in my truck quickly, and heard my wife’s ring tone, so I answered my phone. It became colder, dimmer, and during the day the water turned to ice. Therefore, I put my truck in four wheel drive to take on the ice. The roads were slippery, almost impossible to travel on and I was still shivering and shaking even with the heat on. Cruising down the road seemed more like skiing down a hill. I guess that’s why when every thing started happening, time froze and seemed to stand still.
Rolling across a narrow steep bridge at 45 mph, I lost control of the wheel, a little frightened from having no control felt like nails stabbing my stomach. I started to slide into on going traffic; I knew they wouldn’t see this coming. I slid fast and hard into a familiar little black car and upon impact we both slid into the bridge bar.
Why do dreams come true? Why do nightmares come alive? Why upon impact, did the bars bend aside? The car slid over the bridge. As the car crashed into the ground, that moment felt like lightning’s speed. Seventy feet above, I stared down and frowned. Then the car blew up and all my high hopes for the person’s survival suddenly plummeted down. Calling the police, I was shaken to the core, but dropped the phone immediately when I remembered she called and said she was heading to the store.
I ran to the bottom of the bridge, but the flames were too hot and high for me to get close. Finally, 15 minutes later, the fire crew arrived and started to diminish the fire. The driver was roast. All I could see was black sketched curly hair. The rest of the face was unrecognizable. I rushed to the back to read the license plate (0212BN). I then fell to my knees and looked to the sky, water eventually surrounded my face. I had killed my wife, my baby, and my future that day. The only thing that ever mattered to me was suddenly taken away. So I starred out the window one last time, this time the sun was out and the sky looked great, but only to think about the license plate that I keep in my safe. A message was given that day and it came with a nasty blend. Why were the numbers on the license plate her exact death date and her initials were-BN?