I walked along the shady path as the sheets of rain poured from the sky and dripped off my rain coat. It was dark and stormy. I couldn’t remember much. My head hurt, and I didn’t know why I was walking here. I remembered there was a job interview, and I grabbed my raincoat and my keys... I came up to an intersection. There was a nasty crash.
A red van had collided with the side of a little blue buggy. Red van. I let out a nervous giggle. It was like my car. There was a man in the middle of the intersection. He was dressed head to toe in black. His face was concealed by the darkness of the hoodie. He turned slowly, and gazed at me. He slowly beckoned with one arm. The victim was lying in the middle of the road. He had been thrown out of the windshield, face down. A puddle of blood was his final resting place.
I shuddered, and walked towards the man in the hoodie. As I strode across the intersection, I gazed at the man in the blue buggy. He was slumped over, shoulder strap cutting into him. His airbag had malfunctioned, and failed to go off. I came to meet the man in the hoodie. He tilted his head and uttered in an inhuman, raspy voice:
“Hello Ryan. I hope you have come to your senses. Turn over the body.”
I cringed, and started to walk away, making excuses. Red circles shone through the impenetrable darkness of the hood.
“Flip the body over,” I stuttered, and my heart fell, realizing that I would have to do as this inhuman creature asked.
I slowly turned it over, and I remembered. The flashback ran through my head, and wreaked havoc on my soul. I remember running from the man in the hoodie, tears streaming down my face. What did I do wrong? I remembered driving the red van. Oh god. It was a sickening crunch, as the red van crumpled into the little blue buggie in the suburbs.
I remember my last moments as I flipped over the body. There on the bloodied street lied my own mangled face and body. The man in the hoodie flipped back his hood to reveal a clone of me, standing there. Mangled, rotting, maggots pouring out of its eyes and mouth.
“Are you ready to come home Ryan?” I screamed.
I cannot stop screaming. I laugh sometimes. I always cry. But I am for eternity trapped in my body, roaming the streets in those damned clothes, waiting for a death so I can feel alive again, if only for a while longer.