Seventy-Nine
Traffic was rubbernecking and so was Eleanor. The car crash was horrendous, and their was no way she could stop looking at it. Especially because they were hardly moving. Her mother muttered under her breath as she tried to maneuver between densely packed lanes of traffic, but it was to no avail. They weren't going anywhere.
The car was crushed, glass parts strewn over asphalt, the front half completely crumpled. Based on the number of emergency vehicles present, it wouldn't be unlikely that someone was dead.
Eleanor watched as the paramedics pulled a body from the car, hurriedly laying him on a stretcher and pulling out a defibrillator. They placed metal parts against the persons chest, panic on their faces, desperately trying to keep him alive.
Eleanor knew it was useless when she saw a man in a red coat appear, white hair swept away from a pale, bony face. She saw him stride through a crowd of emergency responders as if he belonged there, no one seeming to notice or care that he didn't.
Eleanor knew that the man on the stretcher would die as Death took his hand.
She looked away as he squeezed.
YOU ARE READING
Lessons Learned From Dead Men
Short StoryOn the night of her grandmother's death, Eleanor Grace Greenwood meets a strange man in a red coat who calls himself Death. But once you have met Death, Death tends to not want to let you go.
