My Life

“That was a fun night, T-Dawg!” The lowered tone of his voice sends vibrations throughout the night air. I look toward my friend who is a few inches taller and a hundred pounds thicker. “Yeah, it was a solid night.” I avert my gaze and stare at the ice on the side of the street. My skis are resting on my shoulder and the binding is pressing hard against it; I try to ignore the pain. The smell of smoke from the surrounding chimneys seeps through my nostrils. My new ski pants are swishing against one another with each step. The muscles inside of my legs are throbbing and every step I take leaves my shins aching, 12 hours of skiing is enough to leave me shakey legged.

There are parked cars 5 feet to left and my right, we’re walking in the middle in order to avoid slipping and hitting a car with our skis. I hear a car behind me, glance back, and step out of the way. It passes by as I enjoy the night air. The stars are plentiful and the cold refreshes the night like a burning rinse with highly minted mouth wash.

Once again I hear a car and begin to step to the side, slowly glancing back to see which car can emit such a loud rev. The wind blows slightly against my cheeks, I shiver slightly. I look up to see a truck, ‘88 Bronco directly behind me, his engine cranked as he flies through the parking lot between cars which are easily $20,000 more expensive than his own. The car gains distance with each moment as I slowly begin to move out of the way. The car makes no move to slow down, it gets closer and closer till I can smell the oil which is leaking from his engine. I feel fear plunge through my veins like a fire is blown through the metal ring of a blow-torch. I try to leap out of the way but instead feel a strong blow to the left side of my body.

The truck connects with the left side of my body and the mirror clips my arm which is holding my skis. I listen in horror as the skis go crashing to the ground and I feel my body begin to tense up in pain. The car’s tires quickly stop and I hear a door open on the other side. Every inch of the left side of my body aches from the contact, I can feel my heartbeat through my shoulder as it beats in perfect succession to remind me of how much pain I am in. The quick pitter patter of footsteps come around the backside of the car. I see a man, six foot, 200 pounds, red facial hair with darker head hair. His footsteps echo across the nearly empty parking lot as he gazes in fear. His voice peirces the night, like a Vulcher’s battle cries erupting in the desert as it sweeps around its next kill. “What the fuck are you doing touching my car?!” His voice leaves no room for an answer, and before I know I feel a fist connect with my right jaw. I roll my head to avoid too much contact but it throbs immediately and I can feel the blood from my body quickly rushing to that spot. What the fuck is going on?  I think to myself.

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