It was a still night. The pitiless storms that had raged for the past fortnight had finally ceased, leaving in their absence an unerring sense of quiet. It was unnatural, the way it rang through the streets and the houses, louder than the most vigorous rainfall or the unsettling rumble of thunder.
Even the owls were silent. Their usual chorus that would sound from the neighbouring woods had vanished, as though some malignant power had reached down and struck the creatures dumb.
He didn’t quite know what made him do it, but something about the stillness of that night drove Adam from his warm, familiar flat into the unnerving quiet of the streets. It was only a Sunday night, but there still should have been people outside; it wasn’t that late yet. There should have been the odd shopper still scurrying home, or the distant roar of the roads from beyond the town.
That’s why it didn’t make sense. There was no noise – no movement – from anywhere, so why hadn’t he heard the engine? It was as if he’d been in some kind of trance, wandering distractedly down the side of the road.
The car had come from nowhere.
Adam realised what was happening when it was barely a metre away, and by then it was far too late. It hit him with the full force of twenty storming stallions, crushing his chest as their hooves would have trampled him into the dust. He hadn’t time to think. He hadn’t had time to even feel the pain from his injuries before that one reckless driver had wiped him from the surface of the world.
What happened next, Adam still isn’t able to explain coherently. It was impossible – completely unlikely – and, in truth, entirely unexpected. What happened was that Adam woke up.
He was supposed to never breathe again, never open his eyes again and certainly never think again, yet there he was, climbing to his feet and looking around himself. It was as if he was trapped in some sort of dream-state, halfway between and life and death. He couldn’t be dead; if he was dead, then he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t exist. He’d know only darkness. That was what he’d always believed, yet now he was questioning everything.
There was no pain. It was as if that car had never hit Adam, but it had. He could remember everything.
He could remember dying… and he still can.
Word Count: 413
Thank you so much for reading this piece of creative writing that was inspired by the photo prompt competition over at Creative Writing Ink. I hope you enjoyed my take.