Hit

By Thingy


I couldn't blame them when they stared at me with gaping mouths and clenched fists. I laugh when something bad happens, and this was very bad.

I didn't see him dart out into traffic. His head was half way in a pot hole, which really had me guffawing. Through my tears, I could see his little shoe blink on and off and like a flip of a switch, there was only the sound of his ragged breaths.

"Breathe, breathe. I will never get into a car again, I will never talk on my cell phone again. Please, little one, just live."

As the reds lights and white noise rounded the corner, I felt the first hit and heard a scream that could only come from the mother of this boy. I lay against the stink of asphalt and saw the rivulets of our blood mingle, the boy's and mine.

Like a bad cartoon that almost got me laughing again, the men in white bundled, folded and spindled the boy into the back of the truck. All I could see now were Jimmy Choo's and dusty Crocs face, then turn away from me.

"Looks like he'll be okay, ma'am. I'll need to get a statement from you."

I was going to ask the shadow if he wanted me to remain in my current prone position, but I was so drunk and tired.


Copyright ©2011 Thingy. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce in any form, including electronic, without the author’s express permission.

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AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

I am a Midwestern girl, born and raised. Although I've been writing most of my life, I haven't taken my work too seriously, until the last few years. Writing short stories suits me, I think.

Thingy can also be found at her website, Pondering Life.