Drunken Driving: a story (gory)

The world goes on, its daily life continues.  But mine does not.  My new daily life consists of waking every morning and walking to the small road off to the side of every thing else.  Not many cars come this way.  Nor many people.  Why she was even here was a mystery.

The street is narrow, barely enough for one car.  On either side are grimy brick walls, no sidewalk.  The walls block the sunlight, so it's a dark shadowy place.  Dark enough that you have to turn on your headlights when driving there.  When you walk through you feel tense, nervous.  As if a man in a black trenchcoat will reach out and grab, then pull you into the shadows, never to be seen again.

I walk along the side of the road, where the she was at the time of the accident.  I come to a spot on the wall, darker than the rest, and I hug the cold brick.  I spread myself out, splaying my limbs from either side.  I press my self against the cold stone.  The rough egde of one presses into my cheek.  I pray for my life to end like hers.  I imagine it every day.

 The silver toyota, screeching drunkly down the small alley.  She walks, her black hair drawn up into a ponytail bounces behind her.  Hearing the noise she turns, sees the veering car and runs.  It gets closer, closer.  It comes right at her, She tries to jump onto the hood, but is to late.  Half way there it strikes her.  Pushing the broken body against the wall.  You can hear the snap of the spine.  Blood spatters as her body is torn against the wall.  The look of horror stays on her face as the light is torn from her eyes.

 Days later a passer-by will see her slumped over the wrecked car, the crumpled hood had long since stopped smoking.  Her body is practicaly painted in blood, long since dried.  The reddish black color coats the hood and splatters the wall around her.  Inside the car isn't much better.  The slumped over body of the drunken driver has shards of glass sticking out of him.  The dashboard is pressed into him, creating a large crater in his skull.  A feral dog has reached her body.  One arm is missing except for a bit of flesh stuck to yellowing bones.  In his panic the passer-by he calls 911 and reports this sight. 

The police close off the alley and call her family.  I get the bad news.  And I sit.  She was my life.  Now it is empty.  So everyday i walk to the alley and press myself into the spot on the wall that is darker than the rest