Broken Tractors: A Narrative Fiction

I asked my mom “what’s wrong,” she replied with a sorrowful “your Aunt Lisa is in trouble, we must leave now.” The worst part of all of this was my Aunt Lisa’s son was with us, Matthew. He did not know what to think or believe. No one knew the world would slowly start shattering beneath all of us that morning. We drove to her house, we saw ambulances and police cars driving by, that did not help our nerves at all. We finally arrived at her apartment, we never thought all of those emergency vehicles would be going there. My brother and I stay in the car since I was only eight and he was only eleven. My mom and cousin run into the apartment hoping to only find my Aunt had fallen and is unconscious, or she is passed out drunk, just let it be something that is not permanent. What they come to find is that my Aunt is laying on the floor, unconscious, but cold as ice. It was not from someone killing her, or us getting there too late. She had died twenty-four minutes before that phone

‘I don’t want to lose her,’ I kept repeating in my head trying to look strong for her. I was trying to not show how scared I was, trying to stop bursting into tears the second I saw her in the state she was. She was so weak and there was nothing I could do to help, except stay out of the doctor’s way. There were nurses and doctors rushing around and giving me a strange look until realization dawned on them. I was at the hospital with my mom around 10 at night, in my pajamas, wondering what was going to happen to her and if she was going to be okay.

I stood in the corner of the room observing the chaos around me. The red and blue lights flooded the once empty, quiet street. Paramedics rushed into my house as my mom sat on the stairs trying to breathe. My brother, still holding the phone he had used to call 911, watched my mom intently.The commotion from my little sister’s cries to the paramedics faded to the background. My heart still pounding from the journey to my neighbor’s house in search for help. “Everything is going to be okay,” my neighbor instructed as she placed her hand on my shoulder. This had not been the first time my mom had been rushed to the hospital. However, this time, my siblings and I had been left completely alone. Across the world, my father fought a war, while my

I jumped through the kitchen door with the intent of regaling my family with a tale of the firetrucks and ambulances which raced by me during the bike ride in pursuit of their own mångata, but the thought elapsed as trivially and quickly as the vehicles had passed me on the road. Instead, I waved at Mom and Dad watching TV in the living room and headed upstairs to the rhythm of the sirens stuck in my ears. I've always abided by the theory that my bedroom should be a zone solely of relaxation, so I was a little startled to hear the phone binging: “Jake Robertson just died in a car accident,” the screen told me. I pulled up the covers, and my head hit the pillow before the truth hit my

The phone rings. It’s three am. Mrs. Smith knows something is wrong immediately. Her son Sean, seventeen year-old, straight A student, and local high school quarter back, didn’t come home last night. He never called. She answers the phone, dreading what will come next. It’s the state police. There was an accident on Route 5, a head on collision. Her son was driving while intoxicated. He swerved into the other lane, right into oncoming traffic. The driver of the other car didn’t make it. She died on impact. Her son was on his way to the hospital, he lost a lot of blood. They didn’t know if he would make it either.

We had no time to stop. Our car rammed into the driver’s side of the other car. Right before it happened I was looking down at the floor and when I heard my sister scream from the back seat I looked up and saw a white flash and then grey smoke. Everything was in slow motion. It seemed as the airbags slowly popped out the car’s dashboard and side doors, the windshield slowly started the spider web crack, and grey ashy smoke filled the car. My mom slowed move the car out of the middle of the road. Our school objects were flung throughout the car. My sister was asking “What happened”. Her nose was bleeding. My mom was freaking out about what just had happened. At least 20 people jumped out of their cars and came to see how we were doing. My sister turned around and noticed that the white compact car disappeared. I was hardly breathing, trying to stay awake as the stranger asked me questions. I could hear the ambulance the coming from down the road. My neck was aching so bad, my chest felt like fire ran away where the seatbelt held me in, and my abdomen was throbbing. The white car reappeared just as the ambulance pulled up to the scene. The driver’s side of the car

With smoke coming out from the hood of the car, everyone panicked thinking the car was about to go into flames; like in a movie. The doors were locked, on top of that they weren’t opening. When my brother was about to smash open one of the windows, my mom opened her door and we all ran out. At that moment my whole

As I approached, I could see where all his distress was coming from. I fell to my knees instantly, it was my Mom. Lying there lifeless, body parts disfigured and blood everywhere. She didn’t even look like the same person. I didn’t know if she was still alive or dead, no matter how bad it was going to hurt, I had to know and I had to see for myself.

The grand town hall had half it’s roof falling off, I looked through the library windows and saw piles of books all flung about the place. Bomb craters were everywhere. I clasp my hand to my chest, it hurt to see my town in pieces. My little corner of the world. My home. I pinched myself, hoping it was just a dream. Nothing. I pinched harder and harder, ignoring the pain. I stopped, I looked at my fingernails which were now caked with blood, I didn’t wake up, this wasn’t a nightmare It actually happened. My anger took hold and I howled into the sky, tears streaming down my face. I sobbed and cried and mourned and wept and cried some more until there was nothing left and i felt blank, numb and helpless…

As the doctors injected the needle, I knew there was no turning back. She had already suffered enough pain, and they said it was too much for her to handle, but I didn’t believe an ounce of it, there was still hope. The pulse monitor slowly decreased its rate, and I couldn't do but a thing other than grabbing onto the life that was left in her. As I squeezed her hand, the amount of pressure I put was returned; I watch as her life dissipates from her once beautiful body. My mother’s death was a life-changing experience for me at the age of 13, and I knew I had to become a man and step up as a young child growing up. I was faced with daunting new responsibilities, memorable experiences, and ongoing maturity.

Within the hour the phone rings and I hear Grandmother softly crying. As she calls other family, I slowly piece together an account of the day from her side of the conversation. Mom’s being transported by ambulance to a nearby emergency room for attempted suicide. Sadness grips my chest sucking air from my lungs. Somewhere within my trusting innocence, I expect Dad or Mom to walk through the door; I yearn for reassurance.

The loud sound of the fire from grill exploding sounded as loud as a music concert. I tried to run but my legs were frozen. Instead, I turned my back and shut my eyes as tight as possible. Fear materialized before me. This was my first real experience of fear. I've always seen fear in movies and TV shows but never actually felt it. It felt like a mysteries hand crushing your heart. You soon break out into a sweat. Your body turns solid and freezes in pure terror. The more you think about it, the more scared you get. It is a feeling of pure discontentment. I kept closing my eyes hoping that it was a nightmare and open my eyes and it would not be true. It was unbelievable, a shocking nightmare. What did I do wrong? What went wrong? What if I had been physically hurt? I kept asking myself a million questions in a matter of seconds. This was unreal.

It turned a joyful kid into a women forever haunted by her everlasting past. I recollect me crying into the nothingness. No one present there to help me. No one recognizes what he did. I can't point the finger at them, he's my own cousin, I wouldn't presume it either…

My heart pounded erratically, my feet moved to the beat of my racing heart. Branches slapped across my chest. I didn’t dare look back; the cloaked men were nearing, I could hear their thumping footsteps all in sync with each other getting closer and closer. There was no chance I could take them all. In almost a demonic manner the cult said “We know you are here Felix, you can run but you can’t hide, you are mine.Mine! Forever!”The next thing I knew my vision was beginning to blur. Then it happened.There was no way to stop it. It was taking over. I had no control over myself. My body had a mind of it’s own. I uselessly became limp I was passed out hard cold.

The front of my dad’s silver car had infused itself with a tree. Both anxious and dizzy, knowing my head wasn’t on a cloud any longer, I turned my head to observe the surrounding environment to only find the other car on the opposite road, smoke evacuating from the red truck. I quickly returned myself back inside the car and the door on my mom’s side was completely wrecked. My dad quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, pulled out his phone, and requested ambulance. As they arrived one by one, I made sure everyone was okay but I could regard from the back of my head that my mom was breathing heavily. All I could do was hope that someone would arrive, I don’t care who, just someone!