Creative Writing: Slow-Motion

It was on a frigid, dark autumn night that I entered this wonderful world. November 13, 2000, the date, almost November 14th. My siblings had no idea that my name would be Clayton Wayne Griep, and that minutes before midnight on that night I was their brand new brother. A few days later I would leave that hospital in Zeeland, Michigan and be welcomed to my new house, at 4096 Marion St. in Hudsonville, Michigan. Two of my siblings were more than excited to see me, but one didn’t have any idea what was going on. Cam, who was not even a year old, unbeknownst to him, had a new roommate. Jordan, who was in the 2nd grade at the time, was eager to meet me, his eyes constantly locked on me. Jalen, using her newly found vocabulary, probably babbling

The drive home was difficult; his vision swam and his muscles felt stiff and achy. Too bright city lights glared at him, pierced his eyes. His head throbbed, beat, beat, beat, in rhythm with his racing heart. Nausea rocked in his stomach and every noise seemed amplified. Why were these damn people driving so slowly? He needed to get home; he was already late as it was, and his father wouldn't be pleased. Leaving the glowing city behind him, Aiden found slight relief in the peaceful country roads and sharp peppermint smelling pines that surrounded his home, if you could call it that.

It was November 20, 2016 the day that I had left for Cancun Mexico. Me, my brother, my mom, and my Grandma and Grandpa all 5 of us in my Yukon Denali on our way the the Hilton Double Tree. It took about an hour and half to get to Chicago Illinois, but on the way there we had to make a few pit stops in Valpo to get my brother some flip-flops that we ended up losing in Mexico. On our way there we had kept in contact with the other 9 people we were going with, My cousin Sean had checked in on us a few times, and asked us how far we were from the place we were heading which was called Portillo's. It's a restaurant that is amazing all of us were going to meet there for dinner before we would all head to the hotel. When we had gotten there my 3

December 15, 2013 was a completely average day until my mom picked me up from school. Noticing the tears streaming down her face, I inquired, “What happened?”

It's Friday, March 25 in the morning at about 7:00 am when my mom wakes all of us up to get ready to leave. On the way to Minnesota we were driving, but still in suamico, we stopped at a Kwik Trip gas station to fill up the tank. We all were thirsty so we got a water from the cooler in the back of the truck, but my brother Roy spilled his all over himself and on the seats.”Good thing it's just water.” My mom said. As we drove across the imaginary line splitting Wisconsin with Minnesota there was a big rock carved into the shape of Minnesota that said, “Welcome To Minnesota.” When we were on the highway we almost got into two major accidents, the first one was when we had an open lane ahead the driver to the right of us tried coming into our lane right next to us and put our left two tires

It was the weekend before christmas, there wasn't snow but it was cold. We were leaving Home Depot. My boyfriend was driving his grey minivan. I was in the passenger seat next to him with his two friends in the back and a few of his other friends following us in Ethans van. The light turned green and we went down that road like every other time, but that time was different. We hit a patch of black ice. Boom. We hit the curb and s. I turned to look if everyone was okay as a flash of lights came from behind. It was kenneth's friends in the other car, they were coming up fast.

This car accident led me to have PTSD, which stands for post-traumatic stress disorder. It is a disorder that follows a traumatic event. It made me into who I am today because even though it happened nine years ago I still feel the effects as if it happened yesterday. For example, when my friend’s dad was also in a bad car accident and I went with them to see the car I had an anxiety attack because I had flashbacks. I went months with nightmares and whenever I saw something that reminded me of that day I would shut down. PTSD made something that people do so effortlessly into something absolutely terrifying for me which is driving. I still can’t drive in big cities like Sioux City

Good. I touch the icon and drag it. Oh, it’s following my finger’s movement. Alright, let’s see… I drag it to the slot that indicates my right hand. Immediately, the bokutõ shows up on my hand with a quick white light.

“Anything that can help us find out who did this.” I said, examining the crime scene. I walked towards what used to be the glass case that held the crown, but was now a useless, shattered cube.

The next morning (Y/N) slowly woke up, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. She blinked a couple of times before looking around the room. She went to go get up before doing a double take, her eyes widening. Sitting in random places in her room were all of the characters from The Outsiders, at least all of the characters from Darry's gang. She tried not to start freakout, looking at everyone. They were just like she had imagined them.

My heart fills with anger and sadness as I recall the accident. Little did I realize at that moment, but that accident would cause me to attempt things that I did not think were possible.

It has been two years since that accident and I think about it almost everyday. I learned that you should always wear a helmet and you should be grateful for every day you are given. I learned that with enough hard work and determination anything is possible. After enduring something like that, it really makes you feel thankful for everything that life throws at you, good or

For me, this accident happened when I was twelve back in 2009. Every Labor Day weekend my family packs up essential camping gear and spends the weekend roughing it in the great outdoors. I remember the day clearly. Serenity and relaxation flowed through every bone in my body as we pulled into the circular 100 feet by 100 feet clearing

The day started like many other days, children eating breakfast, waiting for the school bus, all excited to see what the day would bring them at school. The anticipation of the holiday season approaching made things even more alive with excitement. It was December 14, 2012 in a small Northeastern town in Connecticut. Little did anyone know that this day would be the day that would change the lives of so many.

My two girlfriends and I were weeks away from our 21st birthdays when life, as we knew it, changed forever. A drunk and speeding driver crossed three lanes, came at us head on, and killed my closest friend, Michelle. Our other friend, Lori, was in the backseat of the Volkswagon convertible. Of course, decades after this happened I still harbor contempt for people who think they have a right to risk other people's lives by drinking and driving, or by speeding. What I've recently discovered is that it is only after so much time has passed that the survivor of a fatal car accident truly sees the long-term impact of it. Over time, I've become aware of the things that nobody ever told me I should expect. I thought that my decades of hindsight may