Years ago, a ten-wheeled chrome-plated monster of a truck had almost killed her, stopping inches from her face. She had been married then and her son had cried himself half to death.
This was almost the same scenario. Only this time, she was in a car and her son was all grown and driving. And this time around, the truck succeeded.
Avish barely had time to turn his head to the left, from where the truck was coming relentlessly fast.
(it's just like back then)
His eyes widened, his veins protruded, his heart hammered, his foot smashed on the brakes, his head made as if to explode even as the truck skidded and moved hesitantly, desperately trying to avert the coming disaster.
It is said, and Shweta had always believed, that your whole life flashes by in front of your eyes when you die (in a neatly edited Microsoft presentation form, she had perpetually hoped).
But, leave life, she didn't even have a moment to say goodbye to his son. She would rather have died by disease, in a craggy old hospital bed, with his son's hand in hers rather than this.
For before she could even completely open her eyes, it was impact time, and the truck hit her side of the car before even a tear could be allowed to shed.
To Avish, it all looked like a dream. This was a hoax, a lie, from the man in black, from Bhoo. He had been thinking about his stupid sayings and this had happened, so none of this was real. None of this meant shit.
But moisture streaked down his cheek, in hyper-accelerated motion, as if it knew they had no time.
The car toppled over to the right. Avish couldn't even call out his mother's name - oh how cruel can life be - and the glass on the left side broke and everything on that side was pushed inward, into Mom, and Mom was pushed into him in turn. His legs hit the dash hard. He was only vaguely aware of it . . . all he was aware of was his Mom flying in the car towards him amidst an army of glass shards and even - what was that - chunks of metal and everything was happening too fast for his taste and oh, he still couldn't bear to see her that way. She looked like a levitating puppet with no puppeteer, lolling in the air for the millionth of a second as Avish's eyes shut themselves, telling him to not see, but he had seen enough, enough that he knew everything was crumbling . . . everything was over now . . . nothing meant anything anymore.
All Avish remembered was the wreck of his head against something as even the blackness he saw dissolved into nothing
(a void)
-and he felt something soft collide into him as his blind, blank world balanced back into normal frame - which must just be the car regaining disposition.
The soft body that had bumped into him, its limbs pressed against his own. Even as he drifted off, he could tell what harm had been done.
(yeah, this one's real short, because it's meant to be)