YAY! I reached 100 followers! THANK YOU.
Do you remember my post back in October? I mentioned a gift to celebrate all you folks who choose to support and motivate me. I’m so thrilled you’re here!
Here’s your gift: a free short story written just for YOU.
Enjoy!
Crashing into the Veil
Copyrighted Catherine Girard-Veilleux, 2019
‘’This is ridiculous.’’
Martin sighed and shook his
head at the traffic in a well-trodden suburban road. Patience wasn’t one of his
virtues and he had a wife and a little girl of 4 to get to. It was late enough
with evening plain to see outside the car windows. Work had drained him and he
wasn’t quite in a… good mood. He grabbed the wheel and turned it in a brisk
movement, his foot hard on the gas pedal.
He could’ve sworn there was no
one else in the left lane, but some jerk cut in from the third lane and crashed
into him. The first car barreled into two others on the right and caused a
pile-up.
As for Martin, he gasped and
cussed as fear froze him to the bone, making him let go of his wheel. When the
cars hit, all he saw was his hood being crushed and pushed back, and his head hit
the wheel with such force he thought he heard an awful cracking sound.
But then, all movement and
sound ceased around him for what seemed like a second.
He blinked hard when a
policeman directed a flashlight in his face. Someone must have called the
9-1-1… He couldn’t have been out that long, could he? The young officer talked
to him through the window. Martin opened his mouth and tried to tell him he
couldn’t hear. He was struck by the absence of pain, but his rational mind told
him it was due to adrenaline. Of course. Instead of opening the door and saving
him, the officer straightened up and walked to his colleague, discussing what
he saw, no doubt.
Irritated by this obvious lack
of compassion for someone in need, Martin pushes with much strength on the car
door. He ends up tripping out of his car instead.
Okay,
that was… strange. He filed this occurrence in his mind for later,
though. It was a consequence of the accident.
He needed to focus on what’s
important and help others since he was still able-bodied. No?
Without deigning to take a
glance at the officer, Martin rushed to the nearest victims of the crash. A
poor middle-aged woman lay on in the middle of the road, croaking with pain and
blood oozing out of her mouth. Martin reached her and tried to hold her hand,
but it slipped through. Shocked, Martin focused on his own fingers and flexed
them; they still responded. So what the hell was that? Was he dead?
The dying woman turned her
head an inch in order to face him. Her eyes were glazing over, but still she
said in one last breath: ‘’You’re my angel, aren’t you?’’
Martin couldn’t reply as a
paramedic walked through him to take the woman’s pulse. A cold, rippling
sensation flooded him. He grimaced and touched himself. Why, he felt solid… to
himself. Obviously, he was not.
Terrified, and piecing the
puzzle together, Martin ran back to his car. Paramedics were doing CPR, trying
to keep him alive. But the more they tried, the better he felt.
‘’Stop. He’s not coming
back,’’ the older paramedic says to the youngest, putting a hand over his arm
in a compassionate gesture.
‘’No! NO!’’ Martin shouted,
though he knew no one here would hear him.
Panic was eating away at him.
His body (or whatever it was now!) shook with force, his teeth gritting. He
hugged himself, eyes roaming the horrendous scene, taking in all the tragedy.
His daughter? It would be hell
not to see her grow up and become a woman. His wife? It would be torture to
live without her… wherever he was going next.
Death had come and stolen his
life away like the worst thief. Because he knew he was dead, all right. But
what happens now? Is he left alone to wander the world without playing any part
in it? Is it truly the end of the road? Surely there has to be more answers to
these incessant questions, if not in life then in death!
A shrill scream tore through
his dark thoughts. He spun around and saw a woman standing near a shape under a
white sheet… The dying woman! Though now she looked beautiful; no blood, no
wounds, and her vintage clothes weren’t torn.
Martin went to her. ‘’I
know,’’ was all he said, nodding. Nothing could comfort her. That he was
certain of.
Then, the whole area shudders
and ripples. They both jerk their head up. ‘’What the-’’
It’s all gone in an instant.
Martin looks down and sees
he’s not on a road anymore. In fact, it’s quite as though he’s floating as
there’s nothing under his feet! All there is is a gray mist all around, above,
and under them both.
‘’Wh-where are we?’’ the woman
asked, her eyes bulging out of her face.
“Welcome to the land of the
dead.”
There was nothing else to say;
they needed to keep going. Perhaps they’d find the answer to all this at the
end of the invisible path. And so they went, hand-in-hand, for God knows how
long.
But he sure pondered. And most
unsettling sensation was the growing freedom in him as they walked. Freedom…
Is this what it means…
Death?
If you enjoyed this short story (and I genuinely hope you did!), you’re more than welcome to leave me a comment or share your thoughts with me on Twitter.
See you next post, lovelies!
Photo by Miriam Espacio on Unsplash
Ad Librum Aeternam 