Short Story About Chevy

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I died, well almost. I remember thundering and quick shots of silver lightning that forked in ribbons down the dark summer sky. “John.” My older brother, Pete, had said as he gave me an enigmatic side glance from the corner of his startling eyes. Pete had a taut grip on the steering wheel of our dad’s archaic Chevy. The exhaust pipe was rusted, so were the tail lights, and the headlights were fogged up. The passenger window pigheadedly refused to roll down despite the heavy onslaught of cursing from its owner, and the once deep rich cobalt paint job was now molting and falling like graceless angel feathers. “John, are you even listening to me?” Pete asked wearily. I ignored him, I was mad at him. Pete would be leaving for Auburn University come fall. Everyone was elated…show more content…
One day you will understand.” I didn’t answer him. I leaned my head on the passenger window, consumed in thought. I ignored that every time we hit a bump my brain felt like it was being blended into a smoothie, and then I closed my eyes. In that split second everything happened, I thought the world had ended. Our Chevy had creamed into a massive Jeep Wrangler. The two cars sandwiched together into a metal haphazard chaos. White noises deafened me, only a small tenacious ringing continued tittering in my eardrums. An airbag had blasted in my face, knocking my head back with a leaden thump and braking my nose with a nauseating crack. Crimson blood ran in gushing rivulets from my nose and dripped on the fabric of the airbag, staining it. Shards of glass swathed the entire area, they gleamed sinisterly. Thunder cackled and the long bony fingers of lightning danced overhead. “Pete?” I croaked dejectedly. My vision was obscured by broiling blood smarting from a gash above my brow. I couldn’t see well, the gasoline fumes made my eyes water. In one good eye I saw Pete’s wilted form. A tsunami of heartache and angst drowned me. Pete did not answer
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