A Short Story : A Story?

He stood up and hugged me. I hugged him back for I knew that his life was as hard as mine. He was dragged out of my hands, and I reached out for him as they shut the door of the car. The car started to go, and so did I. I ran after the car, but I didn’t make it far, for the car blew up as mine did. Right in front of my eyes, I watched people die, but I didn’t know I would watch my friend die in front of my eyes.

“Hey mate. You lost consciousness after I hit yo-- I mean you hit your head on that rock.” The man said.

“Kid, you gotta come with us. Your head’s bleeding like crazy. Can you not feel that?” On instinct I touched the back of my head. I could feel it. The blood. I pulled my hand away, and it came back covered in red.

“What did you do to me?” I whisper hoarsely, releasing the hold on my head. When my hands drop to the floor beside my face, I note the dark blood sliding through my fingers. Just like my dream, I had ripped the skin around my ears open from squeezing so hard. Perhaps I hadn’t been thinking it all up; maybe there was a hint of truth to the dream.

My head tilted close to her ear so my voice carried over the alarms in the intensive care unit. With a breathing tube impeding her speech she nodded no. “You were in a very bad accident, you are in the hospital, we are doing everything we can,” I murmured before turning my attention to squeezing bag after bag of blood into her veins.

I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. His body made a hard impact on the ruthless concrete that caught his fall. In a blink of an eye, I dropped to my knees and was now wrapping my arms around his lifeless body, hoping my warmth would bring him back. But to my disappointment, his body was still. I let my numb fingers gently graze his bitterly cold skin. For every second my finger tips came in contact with his skin, my heart shattered even more. I choke back a sob when I dared to make eye contact with his blank ones. My mouth was uncontrollably spewing out apologies to the love of my life. I was sorry. I was in pain. My body was numb while my heart sunk, and my stomach twisted into a bitter

“Okay, hey you're fine it was just an accident” they said in a loving voice.

The voice drifted into the man’s consciousness, forcing him to open his eyes. Blinking he forced himself to focus on his surroundings. Strapped to the passenger seat he dangled across the cab, hanging into the driver’s side, which had mostly been torn away by the wall the vehicle was against. No, not a wall, the ground. He shook his head. The vehicle was on its side, crumpled with windows smashed and scattered across the cab. Blood was dripping past his face too. He reached up to the pain throbbing through his head and touched something sticky. Pulling his hand away coated in red he realized where the blood was dripping from.

“Gloria! Gloria are you alright!” Blood was seeping from the wound and congealing on the leg of her pants. “Ava. Jane. Inside, now.” We obeyed. The mother lifted her daughter into her arms and rushed past us into the house. Inside she carefully removed the bolt and them her daughter’s pants, dabbing peroxide on a cotton swab and laying it over the wound. She tore her shirt into thick strips and wrapped them tightly around Gloria’s leg. Blood poured from the puncture, soaking the new

“No way. It had to be an accident. He wouldn’t and couldn’t do that”, Angela said in a loud whisper. A couple officers looked her way.

CRASH! My head throbbed from the sudden collision between the stairwell and my noggin. Family members began to pour into the accident scene with concern bluntly written over each of their faces. My mother immediately started inspected the wounds given to me once she spotted the damage. In that moment, I could not focus on anything other that the burning sensation near my chin; I was incapable of forming words as responses to my crews constant questioning; after a short consideration between my family, my mother placed a damp paper towel over the cut and put me into the car, where we were then going to drive to the hospital as if it was a race; except, it was a competition. It was a race against the clock,

When he left Haig to meet and greet all the staff, Doctor Pax strode over to a plain wooden door in

“What?” Juliana asked. “I’m sorry honey, Samantha was killed in the woods. Her parents identified her body,” her mom cried. The shock for Juliana was paralyzing. How could this happen? Samantha was one of Juliana’s best friend.

“So you like this girl in your art class,” Momo reiterated, trying to grasp at what Mina said beforehand. Momo found that if Mina hadn’t spoken in a flustered jumble of words all strung together, they wouldn’t have gone through this painfully slow process.

It was a nice summer day, my 5-year-old son Sam was playing outside in the backyard of our suburban home. Sam has always been a quiet boy, he plays by himself mostly, he never had many friends, but he has always had a wild imagination. I was in the kitchen feeding our dog Dakota, when I heard what sounded like Sam talking to someone in the backyard. I’m not sure who it was he could be talking to, could he have finally made a friend? Being a single mom it’s hard for me to always keep an eye on my son, so I decided to go outside and check on him. When I went into the backyard I was a bit confused, because Sam was the only person back there. Was he talking to himself? I could have sworn I heard another voice. “Sam! It’s time to come inside.” I called out to him. He came inside and sat down at the kitchen table, it was about lunchtime so I decided to make him a sandwich. “Sam. Who were you talking to out there?” I asked. Sam looked up for a moment, “I was playing with my new friend,” he said smiling. I poured him some milk and continued to pry, as any good mother would. “Does your friend have a name? Why didn’t you ask him to have lunch with us?” I asked. Sam stared at me for a moment before replying, “His name is Funny Man.” I was a bit taken back by what he had said. “Oh? That’s a strange name. What does your friend look like?” I asked a bit confused. “He’s a clown. He has long hair and a big swirly cone nose. He’s got long arms, with stripy socks, and he always smiles.” I