|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 8:13 pm
I'm seriously afraid to post this. Just because I'm worried it'll be really bad. You know like, not written well. D:
So, um. Tell me what you think? - runs away and hides in fear-
Title: Of a Drunken Car Crash
Genre: General, Drama, Hurt/Comfort?
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2,273 [almost four pages in Microsoft Word]
Warning(s): Unedited [as in the teacher never told me the corrections I need to make], incorrect references because I’ve never had any of this happen to me, since it’s unedited there may be some instances where it changes from first person to third person ‘cause that always happens when I don’t pay attention while writing in first person, the person whose narrating should be in more of a panic, and uh… uh, I dunno what else. D:
Summary: I was screaming the whole time, holding onto the edge of my seat in a tight grip, and my body tensed up as the car swerved and started heading towards a telephone pole…
Extra: Done for an assignment in my honors English class. And it was supposed to be five paragraphs, but mine turned out almost four pages. xD
--
My friend had been drinking, and the smell of alcohol was heavy in the air. I always get worried for him because of his drinking habits, but he never listened to me no matter how many times I pleaded for him to stop. Right now he’s kind of scaring me, the way he’s grinning, it just creeps me out. Like he’s about to do something that he thinks is fun, except since he’s drunk, it’ll probably be a pretty bad idea. And my questions were answered when he grabbed my arm in a deadly grip and yanked me into the car.
Immediately I started screaming and banging on the car door, “Let me out! Let me out!!” But he locked the car and the locks were only by the driver’s seat and I just didn’t feel comfortable reaching over there. I was panicking, and when he started the engine I felt uneasiness in my stomach. I started trembling, yanking on the handle trying to open the door. But it was useless, I knew it. I was afraid; I’ve always been afraid of drunken people. Yes, I know that’s mean of me to say because my friend here gets drunk, but I don’t think it matters at the moment. He’s drunk and driving.
I think the scariest part was when he actually started to drive. He started laughing maniacally, and his eyes were dilated. I was screaming the whole time, holding onto the edge of my seat in a tight grip, and my body tensed up as the car swerved and started heading towards a telephone pole.
I’m not really sure what happened after that; it all just seemed like a blur of grey mess. But I could certainly make out the sound of my friends scream, or maybe yell, I never knew the difference. Then next thing I know there’s an airbag in my face, and I heard loud bangs and crashing nonsense, metal crunching—if that even makes any sense—and something shattering, like glass maybe.
Then it all went quiet, except for that annoying high-pitch incessant beep in my ears. I was in a daze for a while, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I grit my teeth, the pain was excruciating, my whole body hurt. All I could taste was blood, and I guess my eyes had been closed, because when I tried opening them, they felt heavy and I could just barely squint. I could feel the blood trickling down my face—or rather, head—down my neck and past my collarbone, there was some dripping along my arms, too. And my legs, well, blood was oozing out too, but I couldn’t tell where, since my entire body hurt.
By then I had wondered what I looked like, though it honestly didn’t matter. I could still smell the alcohol and now blood, gasoline, and something burning. Although I wasn’t too sure that anything was burning, at least not that I could see (but then again I wasn’t looking). Or maybe something was burning. Me? I could feel burn marks on my body. But they weren’t on fire, I know that much. Another thing I could feel were shards of glass, they were like, stabbed in me, if that makes sense.
And when it finally registered in my brain that we drove into a telephone pole, I freaked out and immediately turned my head to the driver’s seat, but completely regretted it directly after ‘cause damn my head hurt. I couldn’t really see anything at first because of the airbag in my way, so I moved it after some try. When I finally got a look, the car was in shambles and I swear to god it was in half or something. But, the thing that stood out the most in all this mess was my friend all bloody and draped over the wheel.
I wasn’t too sure if he was dead, he was hunched over the wheel so I couldn’t see his face. Isn’t it true that you can tell if someone is dead or not by looking at their eyes? Like if they’re dull, faded, lifeless even. So I planned on reaching over and shaking him ‘til he woke. But when I leaned over to his side and tried reaching my arms up, they fell back down. I’m not really sure why, but they hurt more than before.
This time I tried calling out to him. But it really just turned out like a croaked groan. Damn, I thought, this is worse than I expected. I wanted to take a deep breath and try to calm down, because I’m kind of panicking right now. But when I inhaled, I felt a shark pain in my chest and it hurt, so I stopped breathing automatically for a moment. And when I realized that I had stopped breathing for a few seconds, I exhaled slowly.
Turning back to my friend I tried talking again, “Parker… Parker… Parker!” He didn’t respond, he didn’t even move. It was unnerving, what if he was dead? “No… that was a stupid thought. He couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t!” I tried laughing it off, thinking of how stupid I must sound, thinking that, maybe, if I try again, he’ll wake up. And we’ll all hang out together again, and maybe he’d learn his lesson to never drink again. You never know, right? Right…?
Now I heard the sound of sirens in the far off distance and they were getting louder. Then they stopped, and I could somewhat hear shouting. People were helping me out of the car, scurrying around and shouting orders at others. They were carrying Parker out because he was still unconscious. When I got out I could see them putting Parker onto the stretcher. They then tried putting me in a stretcher to go in a separate ambulance, and I protested.
“Wait!” I shouted, “You can’t, I want to know his condition! Put me in the same ambulance as him!” I struggled out of their grasp, it hurt like hell but I didn’t care. My friend is more important.
“Sir, you can’t. There’s no room for another stretcher!” One of the men took hold of my arm, not very hard but I still nearly toppled over in pain.
“Stop, it hurts!” But I don’t think they’re listening because another man had grabbed me and they both pulled me up onto the stretcher and strapped me down, “No! No!” I couldn’t exactly move. Not because it hurts, it’s mainly because of the stupid straps.
I turned my head to face Parker and it started pounding, I didn’t care though. He was already in the ambulance so I couldn’t see him. That’s not fair… I was in the ambulance now. I closed my eyes and I don’t know what happened after that. I just couldn’t wait to see my friend Parker.
--
My eyes opened slowly and my vision was blurry at first, but after a while it became mostly clear. Everything was white, so I figured I was in a hospital.
“Oh, you’re awake. You’ve been asleep for some time now. About three days.” I nearly jumped out of my skin in fear. I was certainly not expecting to hear a voice, and besides, I didn’t even notice anyone here. I turned my head to where I heard his voice, “It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m just the doctor here.” And he smiled. It’s not like it was a creepy smile or anything, it was just, odd to me. Like there was some meaning behind it. That sounds so lame, though.
“H-how’s Parker?” I said breathlessly while trying to sit up, it was hard to breathe because it felt like there was a huge weight pushing down on my chest. Then I had a coughing fit.
The doctor said, “You should lie back down or else your condition will worsen.” And when my coughing fit stopped, I took a deep breath and glared at him.
“I asked a question. Now you better answer it.” I talked slowly and used my intimidating and threatening voice, but of course I didn’t threaten him.
I think he got the message because he closed his eyes then sighed, and I could tell something was not right, “Your friend Parker, right?” He asked, and I nodded in response. It took him a while to say it, “I’m sorry, but he’s passed away,” And I sat there, shocked, devastated even.
“…What? When?”
“His airbag malfunctioned and he died during the crash. You are fine, however. Luckily your airbag went off.”
No… not luckily. Not at all. It should’ve been me, not Parker, who had to die. It was my fault anyways, that I couldn’t stop him. I tried to help him, but I didn’t try hard enough. I could have done so much more for him, and then he’d never have drunken that beer, and none of this would have ever happened. We wouldn’t have gotten in a car crash, he wouldn’t be dead. And both of us would be okay, perfectly fine sitting at home watching television, chatting away. But no, that didn’t happen, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
I hadn’t even realized it, but I guess I had started to cry. I could taste the salty tears in my mouth. The doctors face showed pity, and I got angry. ‘I don’t need your pity,’ I wanted to say, ‘I don’t want you to worry, because I don’t need it. So just shut up.’ But the words just wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t say a damn thing and I don’t know why. All I could do was just sob my eyes out.
--
It’s been a week now and the funeral has finally come. I always wear black so I didn’t need to really do anything as far as clothes go. I only needed to find somewhat fancy clothing, which I surprisingly had. “I do kinda like this dress shirt though…” I mumbled to myself, quite surprised I said that. I’ve never been to a funeral, honestly. So I don’t really know what to expect. All I know is that a preacher talks and we all wear black.
My family and I are at a funeral home (I think that’s what they’re called), and we just sat down in our seats. They cremated Parker, and his parents who flew all the way down from New York to here, which is California, are going to keep his ashes. I did kinda want to keep his ashes, but I knew that it would be best for his family to keep them.
I looked around a couple times and saw lots of people sitting down. I never knew he knew this much people, I mused, I’m sure most of them are his parents’ friends…Wait, did they all come down from New York, too? Now I’m seriously confused. But I didn’t have much time to think about it, for the preacher had already walked up to the front and started talking. I didn’t get a chance to listen to the first part of what he was saying, though.
“…Parker Clement was a good, kind young adult. He was…” And I just tuned them all out, thinking about my own memories of Parker.
A little later, (or maybe a lot later, I wasn’t paying attention to how long I spaced out) my Dad elbowed me in the ribs lightly, “It’s your turn, son.” He whispered.
“Huh?” I looked up to the preacher who was now staring at me.
“Floyd Garza,” He smiled, “Please come up if you have anything to say.”
This time my Dad practically pushed me out of my seat, and so I walked to the front and stood behind the microphone. Looking around, I noticed how a lot of people were crying. I could hear slight sobbing—I’m sure they were trying to hold it in. And I looked at his parents for a while, their expression full of melancholy. His mother was crying and his father had his head down so I couldn’t tell what he was doing.
Then I remembered I’m supposed to speak, and I started, even though I wasn’t very sure of what to say. Towards the ending of my speech, my voice cracked and I started crying. It was rather embarrassing, to have my voice crack in front of a lot of people. But I don’t think it really matters, and I’m sure no one cared, because I was crying, crying for Parker.
And all too soon the funeral ended. It turned out that Parker’s Parents really were going to keep his ashes, which was in a very beautiful vase. It was a nice light turquoise that was nearly see-through, but not quite. There are other colors, like a really pretty purple and cool looking shapes and patterns that I had no idea how to describe.
Everyone already left, but me. My parents said they’ll wait for me in the car until I come out. Parker’s ashes were no longer here, because his parents took them already, so I didn’t see any reason to stay in the funeral home. I walked out and looked up to the sky and said, “I know you would want me to live, Parker. And I don’t blame you for pulling me into the car that day. I’d do anything for you, Parker. And right now, all I can do is live.” I closed my eyes and smiled sadly, then walked away and to my parent’s car.
The End.
Did I do well? D:
The assignment was that we had to write a short story about someone who gets in a car crash while being in the passenger seat. The driver dies but the person whose narrating lives [you know, the one in the passenger seat]. And the person who’s narrating has to learn a life lesson or something. :3
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 8:51 pm
I liked the story, though I do have some comments on it. You make Parker sound like a maniac when he gets behind the wheel, and my experiance places that more in the catagory of driving while on drugs than while drunk. Drunk people tend to be a little more uncoordinated but not as crazy. (I won't say exactly how I've gotten said experiance outside the fact that I have crazy teenaged friends.)
Also, if you don't mind making it longer for creative reasons, go a little into why Floyd is afraid of drunks. Was there a bad experience there? Otherwise his freak out doesn't really make sense.
The description of the actual crash was really nice. I liked that a lot and could find nothing to suggest to improve it. What I did notice is you seem to jump from past to present tense a lot throught the story. Most writing, I think, is written in past tense, (though don't quote me on it) so you might want to stick to that, but deffinetly pick one or the other.
Also, try developing the characters a little earlier. I didn't know Parker's name until the crash, and it's absense becomes more and more obvious as the story continues. Same for Floyd's name.
The biggest problem I had though, and probably the hardest to fix, is conecting with the character. I knew Floyd was really upset about Parker, but I didn't feel it. Even though this is a very real situation, it didn't feel realistic.
I hope you know that I'm not trying to be harsh when I say this, it's just the only way I can explain it. I did like your story a lot.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2009 1:02 pm
Oh no... that's what I was afraid of... D: Yes, I had a feeling that I had made him sound like a maniac. But I've honestly never experienced anything like that before so I ad no idea how to do it. :[ Oh okay, I'll keep that in mind, though.
Ooh, good idea. Mhm. ^^ I'll fix that, too.
Thank you. :'D I know, I always do that. On accident, though. Haha. It's bothersome. Dx
Ah yeah. I know, at first I was planning on not naming them at all because it was supposed to be shorter but I decided to give them names. And I honestly didn't feel like going back and fixing it. xD
Eh, really? Oh no! :[ I'll try and see what I can do with that.
Thank you very very much! Hehe. ^^ I'll look over and fix what I can. Thanks a lot! :'D
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
