| Shattered Impressions |

A very brief account of a crash I witnessed. Read carefully, it is about a mature topic. I wrote this for a way to express my grief.

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When others discuss a car crash, everyone talks of what they observe through one sense -the eyes. Why? I had no idea. Every person always claims what they saw, never bothering to pay attention to the other four senses. The smell of burned rubber and spilled gas burns the nostrils of anyone close, yet none pass on the fact when they tell the story to future ears. It’s so prominent in the air, the oxygen surrounding you feels nothing at all like the life-giving breath you need. The fact is simply omitted, as though it holds no importance compared to what you see. People gather like flies to a carcass, buzzing with talk and awe, sometimes pointing towards the two destroyed cars. Some cover their mouths as though staying silent would be a great sign of respect for those who perished in the collision, others keep talking. Eventually, shock passes like a Winter’s bite, slowly easing the crowd to believe that talking is now acceptable. The main question rises from the crowd like oil in water. What happened? They are all loud now, squawking at the policemen and firemen to try and receive an answer. I couldn’t see why it mattered what had happened, as we all knew what came of it. More on-lookers began to press into the growing group, trying to get the best view. Bodies eventually touched each other, people beginning to grow irritated with the cramped available space. No one left their spots however, too entranced by the sight of the blighted cars to dare departure. It was a rather warm day for the middle of January, creating sweat under the suits of business men and beneath the thick hoodies of adolescent teens that decided against leaving their beloved jackets at home. Everyone could feel the heat of the day and other bodies, yet none would tell of the experience later on. The atmosphere was heavy, thick with fear and hefty breaths. If you brushed your fingers against your palms, you could feel the skin beginning to clam up, damp and cold to the touch. Many people licked their lips as they continued to talk, possibly a nervous habit or because the shock of the sight before them seemed to suck the moisture clear from their skin. It was soothing to feel liquid return to the parched skin. Believably, that was the only soothing thing about the situation they were currently in. A young adult, maybe in his early twenties, was standing further from the group. Cell phone glued to his ear, with a pointer finger in the other, he talks loudly to try and explain what he sees. Again, I couldn’t understand why he refused to explain the other senses. The noise of the sirens, toddlers crying, and the crowds loud rumbling, it was all the encumbrance of his ability to hear clearly what the person on the other end of the line said. Yet, the man did not speak of the noise , simply the sight of the crash was his main priority.

Skid marks laced the pavement of the highway that harbored the crash. They danced across the surface of the boiling asphalt, creating intricate patterns that reminded me slightly of a different language. To me, the dark lines of burned tire meant nothing, but to those who had witnessed the crash, they knew exactly what had caused the patterns. Anyone could have guessed it was the slamming of the brakes that created the patterns, but only those whose eyes had consumed the sight of both cares turning, screeching, colliding, and ultimately perishing, truly knew the story. The audience of the scene knew little and maybe that was what caused them to all talk amongst themselves, hoping to find the one with the eyes that contained the truth of the event. Cars that traveled on the highway were slow, most drivers watching the accident instead the road. They were like a second crowd, yearning to see the crash and learn the story behind it. Policemen whistled and lead traffic away from the gruesome scene, but even their eyes seemed to linger on the dead cars by the side of the road. Firemen swarmed around the obliterated vehicles like tiny red ants. Their trucks sirens had fallen silent, no longer maiming the air with their deafening acoustics. Some examined the remains of the vehicles, searching for signs of life. Using giant pliers, they pried apart the meager skeleton that was the car. Inside, it enclosed dead beings, curled up within the belly of the beast that had once provided them transportation. They were like a fetus, helpless now, harbored in the womb of a mother that would never release them on its own will. A gasp arose from the crowd, most women turning away, some grabbing their children and covering their eyes. Some cried, choking on small sobs of grief as the memory was forever stained in their minds. Policemen requested that we look away, to disperse and move on. Most did not budge, but a few fled to their cars, to their homes, away from the nightmare. Like doctors, firemen extracted the bodies from the cars. No survivors existed, seeming to be stillborn hope that everyone was silently praying for. As the bodies vanished, silence filled the air, only a sniffle or sob breaking it for a second. Fear to talk, to breathe, to move, was thick in everyone’s mind. These fears were birthed from the fear of death, something that hung over the audience like a ghostly guillotine. The first one who moved would bring the blade slicing down. Then, the reality set in that things needed to move on, as our lives continued with or without us. For now, it seemed as though our stories would proceed without the drivers of the cars. As the crowd diffused, everyone remained silent, deciding upon how they would re-tell the event later on, maybe explaining why they were late to work or missed a lunch date. All I knew was that I would not dwell on what I had seen with my eyes, but instead, remember every sense that had struck me.

I'm really glad you decided to post some writing Zones! This piece is emotionally powerful, well done!

It's just a quick, expressive piece really. This was just really heavy on my mind, and writing always helps me with that kind of stuff. I will most likely post another work that has more work put into it later on. Thank you for the kind comment though, Little Phily (:

Well you're very welcome Little Zones (: Hahaha. Hey I had an idea, if you were interested in doing more writing and had time - what if we did a joint WQ story?

Hm, that sounds interesting. I'm definitely interested. Would you mind explaining more about the idea?

I was thinking we could plan a plot, probably with two main characters. Then we would trade off writing chapters from the point of view of our prospective characters. I thought it would be a kind of cool idea, especially when one of us doesnt have time for a full story

Hm, I think it seems like a good idea, but would WolfQuest allow it? I believe it might fall under the category of roleplaying, but we could possibly ask a Moderator about it. It would be fun, however.

Yeah I think we should PM one of them, maybe you should send it since your account has been around longer? Explain that we would be making up characters and telling a story, not reacting to each other. We could even give them an outline of our plot

I guess I should, since my account has been around longer. What plot should I say then? Also, if we are not reacting to each others posts, how exactly would we be building off one another? I'm sorry, the idea seems a little confusing to me still haha.

I'll PM you (:

Ok, thanks haha. Sorry (:

You guys are allowed to do a joint story, as long as it does not appear as a roleplay.

Making sure is always a good thing to do. So, would you mind letting me know when you two have started? I would love to read it.

Now, about your story: I really enjoyed it. The fact that you mentioned the other senses that do come into play--though are often omitted--when one witnesses the damage of a car crash. It's a good short story that gives us as the readers insight into your mind. You did well to write it.

Of course! You'll be the first to know when it begins. (:

Thanks, Noct. That really means a lot. I'm glad you see the purpose I found in writing it.

We'll be sure to keep you updated Noct (:

That was amazing Ari! Your descriptions are excellent and you really get your point across in the text. I hope to see more writing from you! I really enjoyed reading this. (:

Thank you so much, Auriella. I'm glad my point came across so clearly and you enjoyed it so much. I will hopefully post more in the future. Thank you for such a nice comment!

You're very welcome! (: