by Marsha Ault
I opened my eyes to the blaring of sirens. I glimpsed a prism of bright colors through the shattered windshield. The blinking illumination of cop cars, ambulances, and rescue trucks strangely created a magnificent spectrum of refracting lights. The brilliance through the splintered glass generated a calming sensation that no matter what was to come, all would be well.
I slowly tried to move my legs, but I could not feel them. I thought of my day. I had gone over to help the Barham family. They just had twin girls. I had spent the day feeding, changing the little ones. Headed home on the interstate, I had dropped my cell, reached down to retrieve it, when I inadvertently swerved onto the shoulder. The car rolled when I attempted to get back on the pavement, landing upright.
“Oh, I wonder if their laundry is still in the back of my van.”
I felt warmth flowing down my body. It felt good as the night air was cool. A bright light blinded my eyes, a man tapped on the side glass telling me, “Lady, we will have you out in a few moments.”
I heard the roar of the “jaws of life” cutting away the metal arms that were wrapped around me. The rescuers pulled off the crumpled wreckage and then peeled the crackled windshield back like a foil lid on a container of yogurt. I felt many hands gingerly pick me up, as my spirit dispersed.
3 comments:
Great imagery and insight into the mind of someone in shock. I was a little confused at the end. Was the word spirit intended to mean 'mood' or 'soul'. With the symptoms of shock running rampant, I wasn't sure if perhaps she had found a 'comfortably numb' mood that was dispersing, or if it was her, herself.
The final line makes the strongest connection for me. I see the "ginger hands" as the narrator's own caring hands.
Her spirit left her body. . . dispersed to an unknown realm.
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