death

There was a terrible accident on the freeway tonight. From where I sat, you could see the pile of twisted metal that stole a life.

The single driver didn’t notice the abandoned tire on the left hand shoulder. It didn’t help his old Buick was heavy and slow to respond. The girl following him close behind was staring at the moon. It was so big. “It get’s that way in winter,” a rebellious teen told her before she left work. “We wobble on our axis and now, the earth’s closer to it.”

Tonight the moon was so much brighter than the single driver’s break lights. The impact was sudden and violent. Her car, a 70s classic, slammed into the Buick’s rear. The girl’s head met glass. The inertia of the moving vehicles threw them across all four lanes and back again. The cars danced with one another, barely missing passing traffic before sliding to a halt on the shoulder of the 405. The car that held the girl who had been looking at the moon managed to wrap around a pole like aluminum foil.

She struggled only for a moment. All she could move was her tongue. It tasted blood and then nothing. Numbness stole her fear. Her eyes could see passing red traffic lights leaving trails, through the streaks hung the same white light in the sky that had captivated her before this death.

She laughed as it faded into nothing.