Flashback

A personal narrative, from my own POV. Hope you enjoy!

The car lurches, as the brakes are floored.

The car in front of me, mere feet away.

I am not the type to be sent into shock easily.

At least, on the outside.

You couldn’t tell that I was disturbed at all by the closeness of the cars, but I can feel it well enough. The muscles on my neck and back tense with a start, my heart leaping into my throat. My eyes shoot to the trunk of the car in front, verifying the space as my hand reach for my seatbelt and armrest.

The worst part is probably my thoughts.

I see a flash from another time, and in that half second, I see it again. Like I always do when someone slams the brakes.

My eyes are closed, trying to sleep, but the bright flashes of the midday sun keep me awake. I am lying on the backseat, seatbelt off.

Not even upright, actually.

The brakes hit like they always do--I am used to it. My mother is not necessarily the best driver.

I roll onto the floor space behind the front seats, grumbling in annoyance at her driving skills.

But something nags at me from the back of my mind, whispering to me that something is off. Tention seems to radiate through the car, and before I know it, the wheels are screeching.

The car slides.

And thud of sheer force sounds, smashing my midsection into the armrest section of the car’s middle.

My muscles clench from the shock, rendering me completely breathless. It doesn’t help that the car’s smoking, too.

My mom freaks, panicking and screaming.

I can see her shouting at me, see her face white in fear and those mad, red-tinted eyes in shock. I can tell she’s saying something, but I can’t hear her. It’s like someone dunked me underwater and all I hear is the dull muffle of a vague, distance voice.

Pitches, mostly. Pitches and the urgency that fills her voice to the brim.

After what feels like an hour, the anxiety and panic dissipates, and her yelling trickles into my ears. I wince--it’s so frantic and piercing.

“Ne! Ne! Chotto papa yonde! Butskacchata! Call 911! Hurry! Nanka shite! Kruma ga moeteru!” In English: “Hey! Hey! Call dad! We crashed! Do something! The car’s burning!” I almost sigh, if I could (I can’t really breathe at the moment). Being the teenager I am, I wanted to retort with a, “No, you don’t say. I don’t think we crashed at all!” Like I said, breathing was my first priority.

Instead, I hold up a finger; I’m hoping she’s figured out I’m having trouble breathing and cannot thus call anyone at moment.

“Hayaku! Chotto insurance dashite! Tetsudatte yo! Call the tow company!” In English: “Hurry! Get out the insurance stuff! Help me out here!”

Well. no such luck on the part where she realizes I can’t breathe for goodness sake.

I do not panic, but my mind is utterly white. I vaguely smell the acrid scent of burning chemicals, so I shove open the door, trying to get fresh air.

I am folded over, still unable to breathe.

And still yet, my mother shouts at me to call my father, to call 911, to call a tow truck.

A groan escapes me as the adrenaline recedes and the pain ads to the struggle by giving my a sharp kick in my ribs. My mother panics more (I hadn’t know that was physically possible) and attempts to flag down an elderly couple rolling by, who stare blankly at the whole wreck, not seeing my mother (I again do not know how this was possible--she literally looked like a possessed maniac. I probably would have laughed if not for the fact that I was too busy trying to get oxygen back into my system first). She continued to flap her arms wildly, trying to get someone to call 911.

I finally mustered enough strength to tell her to stop and that I was fine out of sheer embarrassment. She looked over at me as if she’d forgotten I existed.

“Eh? Daijoubu? Nanimo oretenai? Kyukyu-sha wa? Ii?” Finally. Some sympathy. I shake my head and finally muster that dry, humorless laugh I’ve wanted to get out. “I’m fine! Don’t call an ambulence.” Then I sigh. Ah, the air. How good air feels. Even if it’s clogged with car engine smoke.

I recover from the shock far better than she does, quickly contacting my dad, despite my visibly shaking fingers. Other than that, I showed no sign of panic. I felt an odd calm wash over me, as I took care of taking pictures of the car’s concaved front, and trying to contact the tow companies.

I still am in sort of a daze, my senses dulled instead of being hyper and on end.

Then as quick as it started, the memory is gone along with the half second of closeness with the car in front.

I think I am getting used to the sudden brakes, though they still bring back that memory every time.

And the paranoia.

That will never go away, for sure.

Author's Note

Another riddle:
I am greater than God, more Evil than the Devil, the rich need me, the poor have me, and if you eat me, you will die.
What am I?

Reviews

[matrixmark]

For a 14 year old you have very good writing skills. You went into great depth with detailing how the lurching forwards felt and I for one rally appreciated the time and effort it must have taken to put into words. Your grammar skills are excellent and it shines through in this piece. The flow/sentence structure/Dialogue worked really nicely - I was impressed.

I do hope to read more of your work. I can see a great talent in the making.

Mark.

[Tbear]

What a lovely read..VEry good descriptions. I could feel the anxiety but you were also able to successfully inject the humor into the intense experience.. just a few typos..
the pain ads to the struggle by giving my a sharp kick in my ribs.
Tention seems to radiate
I hadn’t know that

I look forward to reading more of your work..write on..