FFM 2020 14: After A Crash

No prompt used.

Challenge: Write a story in the style of one of the major Literary Movements and feature a theme of discovery or regret.

I chose to feature regret in realism.


I stared at the blood on my car, trying to figure out how a drive back home from work at midnight had made my car a deadly weapon. No matter how hard I tried, I could not remember seeing a soul on the streets until a human-shaped form had appeared out of nowhere and immediately smacked into the bonnet and windshield like a ragdoll. Aside from the death metal coming from the radio, the only sounds I remembered hearing were the screech of the brakes and the horrid crunches at collision.

I had killed someone.

I had killed someone and my car would never be clean from the evidence, no matter how thoroughly I washed it and got the dented parts replaced.

The police had said that it wasn’t my fault, that the man had been drunk, in black clothes without a single reflector and in the middle of my lane, that there had been no way I could’ve seen him and stopped in time, but it didn’t change a thing.

I had killed a man.

I should’ve taken the bus after all. If I had, that man might still be alive, or at least I wouldn’t have been the one to kill him with my car, the first car I had been able to afford without a loan.

I should’ve just taken the bus.

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