|Forbidden for a Reason
Author: Abbytjie PM
A story about a car looking back on his life. Story better than summary. I return reviews!Rated: Fiction K - English - Words: 530 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Published: 03-06-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3003130
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Forbidden for a reason
I've had so many owners…this is my last chance to remember them all.
I was her first car. An eighteenth birthday present from her parents. She was so excited when she got me. Of course, I was brand new back then. Oh, how I wish I was still that new! That I still had that new car-smell…I sighed. My sigh echoed through the junk yard. I shivered. This place is so creepy. So many dead bodies of cars who had died in crashes. So many body parts lying around…I tried to think of something else. Anything else. Who was it that I had after Tracy? Ah, yes. Of course.
Tracy had just gotten married and needed a family car. She had had me for twenty years. She needed to give me up, because I was only a two-seater. I almost cried then. It was always emotional when a car let go of his first owner. Eric was a teacher at the university. 'Mr Collins' I've always wondered what Eric's real name was. He never rode with anyone old enough to call him by his name, and humans are only kind to their own kind. They never introduce themselves to us. They ignore us like we're inanimate objects. Oh, but not all humans are bad. There was of course her.
Stacy with the dark hair that always touched me oh-so-gently. And those eyes: like sapphires. Her hands were always so soft, rubbing my seats lovingly like I was a treasure. I remember the feelings of her hands on my wheel. I always wished she would hold me tighter. She did actually. She held me so tight back when…
I pushed the horrible thought from my mind. But it still sprang up and sent a pang through my engine to see my beloved Stacy that way…to see her screaming…clutching the wheel so hard that her knuckles turned white… I couldn't decide what was worse: the look in her eyes before the car hit her, or the look in her eyes after.'
The sapphires were dull. The inner light she had always projected had died. As if it was a candle's flame that the wind could easily blow out. The end of a life.
The doctor's had said her skull cracked against the windshield. I knew that already. I had seen the blood streaming from her forehead and the last flutter of those sapphire eyes…
I did cry then. I cried soft, aching sobs. What hurt the most was my own guilt. I had no airbags. If I did, she'd still be alive today. She'd be laughing and smiling and dancing and letting her hair stroke against my headrest…
I hear them coming. This is it, I thought. I must be demolished. I'm not road-worthy anymore. Oh Stacy, I hope we see each other again. I love you I've always loved you. I want to die, Stacy. How can I live, when I that you don't?
This is my goodbye Stacy.
I miss you.