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!
(Copyrighted by Catherine Girard-Veilleux, 2020)
Ad Librum Aeternam 