Anniversary of My Death Date
Anniversary of My Death
February 5th, 2018 was the thirty-third anniversary of my death date.
I always remember it, sadly.
I opened my eyes. Surprised to be alive. Sprawled onto
hard mean concrete pavement.
Was it any consolation that one of the honking cars stayed?
Was she doing me a favor?
An older woman gave me a sad look, then drove off like the others, leaving me to die.
The allure of the dark woods which were about ten feet away called me.
Could I make it that far?
I took a step. A sword of burning hot searing pain blew up through my leg from the heel.
I tried to get up using my bike as a crutch, and fell back into the street.
My leg was broken straight across in five breaks all the way down from my upper thigh to my ankle.
Of course, I did not know this yet. I was in shock that I had gone from living to dead so fast.
With a pivot and a scream I attempted to use the bike as a crutch.
It was no mirage that the pedal was gone, broken off by my delicate foot.
A police car came by. The younger officer was motioning wildly, pointing to me.
My face was half torn off too, but I did not feel that yet.
I understood every non-verbal when the older policeman shook his head ‘no’ and drove on.
Six o’clock shift change. I would have been paperwork.
A dulcet melody flowed into my mind as I lay down on the grass,
next to the curb.
Ready for death, welcoming it. Next week, will be the thirty-fourth anniversary.
The date I realized people are not always kind.
The death of my innocence.
Written January 31, 2019 Contest: 8 Word Anniversary
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019
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