Dear Kenai

Tragedy erupts without warning. There is no prelude, no premonition. Not like in the movies where there are signs and prickly feelings up your spine. No, fright doesn't tell you to stop the van, or even that the car is in trouble. It's sudden. Immediate. One second you're talking with friends, tunes in your ear. Or napping, head rested against the cool glass.

And the next everything is wrong. Just as you look up and see the truck plowing straight into you. Your body jolts forward violently, snapping your neck from your shoulders, feeling your spine's been severed. A scream rents the air and is followed by another, and another. The front of the van has been ripped, the metal torn like shards and they thrust inwards. Steam rolls into the seats like a thundercloud.

Through blurry eyes you can see an unnerving stillness within the frantic, terrified movement of your friends. Someone is crying long loud sobs, choking on blood, and you realize you've bitten your tongue.

A low moan sweeps the interior. The sound of death, someone is dying. Maybe it's you. Maybe it's everyone.

You reach out to help someone but you're pinned by the seat and you suddenly realize the pain as you shift. It surges through your body like a bolt of lightning and you fall back, exhausted and dazed from just so much. The flexing of your wrist is even painful.

The tears come as the pain dulls from sharp and stabbing to a low, reverberating frequency of nausea. You begin to cry and join the voices pleading for help. But no one can help. You struggle to keep your eyes open, but the light is dimming. Again you call, but it's names this time.

As you slide from shock into realization, panic rises in your throat like bile and again you cough up blood, dribbling it down your chin. Your vision shudders once, your body convulsing, causing pain to overtake your mind. It's all you know, all you've ever known. The violent spasms followed immediately by mind-altering brutal pain. Your eyes roll up and you gag on more blood, salty and slightly iron-tasting. Your last thought is that there is too much blood for just your tongue. You aren't coughing it up, you're throwing it up.

You sink lower, weaker, until the darkness reaches it's arms around your throbbing body, the embrace like falling into crazed sleep. You surrender without pause, the cries of despair fading away, finally. Nothing more but silent dreams.

-We have you in our hearts

"Dear Kenai"

By Zoe Tollefsrud