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To go towards my AS Creative Writing Coursework, a story about a girl hit by a car. Any comments would be much appreciated please - I need some constructive feedback!

It’s the screech of the tyres that haunt me, and the sickening crunch of metal splintering bone. What puzzled me most was that everybody else carried on, life was still happening around us. How could that be, when life had just ended in front of me? I know that I tried to run out, I desperately needed to know if she was okay, but my feet were locked to the ground, holding me there. All I could do was look on, watch the events unfolding before me. It wasn’t until the ambulance came that I realised I was crying.

 

A thread of crimson spilled down her porcelain face, forming a pool in her dark curls. I watched as her lips pursed, and her last breath escaped from her mouth in the softest of sighs. Her body looked broken. A gust of wind was playing with her, snatching her blouse before dropping it back onto her small frame. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

 

I still couldn’t move. I wanted to be there instead of her.

 

I didn’t understand.

 

My life was ending alongside hers.

 

She was gone.

 

This thought hit me just as my world went black.

 

 

 

 “It’ll be okay, you know.”

I whirled around, trying to locate the voice that was reaching out to me. All I could see was a silvery shadow lurking in the gloom, everything else hidden in a thick cloud of velvet darkness.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, bewildered, desperately trying to catch a better glimpse of the shadow.

“Don’t be. You’re new to this game,” the shadow replied nonchalantly.

“What game? I don’t even know where I am!”

The shadow laughed, and dissolved into the darkness that was surrounding us. I squinted in an attempt to see something other than blackness, but failed. I couldn’t even see my hands properly " they too appeared to be hidden by a strange silvery shadow. Unable to get a grasp on my surroundings, I realised that my head was pounding. A truckload of elephants hammered at my skull, and my whole body felt battered and bruised. When I spoke, my throat felt scratchy, and my voice was no more than a strangled whisper. Perhaps I’m coming down with a cold, I mused, trying to recall the events of the day before.

 

All of a sudden I was back by the side of the road, all memories of the mysterious shadow in the dark momentarily forgotten. The ambulance men had covered the girl, ready to move her into the van. Police tape had been wrapped around the section of the road, blocking the pavement from any onlookers. It took me a moment to realise that I was within the boundary made by this tape, on the very outskirts of the action. No-one seemed to notice me though. I could see a young man kneeling on the road, bent over, face hidden. A medic was covering him with a foil blanket, crouching beside him. The man was clearly very upset, though I struggled to identify him. I wondered whether he was the driver of the ghastly yellow car a few metres away: the door was left open, the bonnet slightly crumpled. It was surrounded by policemen and forensics, clearly this was the car that had hit the girl.

I shuddered. It was suddenly very cold, and I wanted to go home. My head was still pounding, and my body still ached. I longed to be asleep, I longed to forget this awful scene. I couldn’t shift the feeling that I really knew these people, and it was beginning to be quite unsettling.

Just as I began to walk away, the man stood up. He had his back to me, so I still couldn’t see his face, but he felt familiar. I stopped. His cropped hair, dark and slightly curled, was damp with sweat. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but I stopped myself just in time. I still wasn’t sure who this man was, although I was becoming convinced that I knew him well. He turned slightly, so I could see him in profile. My heart stopped.

It was Alex.

My Alex.

My boyfriend, Alex.

I couldn’t believe it. Why was he with another girl? He was supposed to be on his way to my house before we went out again; a table was booked at our favourite restaurant for later that evening... My rambling thoughts stopped as he approached me. His face was red and tear-stained, his eyes kept firmly on the ground. I smiled at him hopefully, wanting him to see me so I could smooth his tearful frown away with kisses and hold him until he stopped crying. Or at least that’s what part of me wanted to do; the other part of me was fuming. Who was that girl? I moved to be beside him as he was ushered into a police car, the medic who was crouched beside him grasping his arm. He killed the girl? I leant out to touch his arm, but I couldn’t reach across the police woman bustling past.

“Alex! Alex, it’s me! What’s happened? What have you done?” I cried, running towards him.

He ignored me. But then, nobody turned round when I shouted or ran. Could they see me?

“ALEX!”

My last attempt at getting his attention as he shut the car door behind him fell on deaf ears. I spun round to take in what was happening. Behind me, Alex was driven away. The ambulance followed. I expected to hear sirens and see the lights illuminate the dusk that enveloped the street, but it was silent.

“Have you not worked it out yet?” a familiar voice scoffed from behind.

Slowly, I wheeled round. A boy, not much older than me, stood before me. A flat cap was crammed over mousy brown hair, and his pale blue eyes stared back at me mockingly. I took in his threadbare waistcoat, his stockings and dusty shirt. He was surrounded by a misty smoke, so faint and light that it was almost invisible. My nose couldn’t help but wrinkle in disgusted wonder.

“Who are you?” I asked, wincing as my words scratched my throat.

“Toby,” the boy replied smartly.

I gave him a withering smile, exasperated, “Have I worked what out yet?”

The boy, Toby, grinned, and leant lazily against one of the police cars.

“The girl,” he nodded behind him, in the direction of where she had lain.

“I don’t know who she is,” I admitted. I was tired of everybody else knowing who she was, especially when I felt as though I knew her. I could feel myself bristling at the boy, annoyed that he was teasing me.

“I thought not.”
I glared at him, angry that he was withholding the information I wanted to know so desperately. I kept my gaze for a few moments, hatred bubbling inside me as he stared back, his left eyebrow raised cockily. I exhaled noisily, and folded my arms tightly across my chest, clamping my white blouse to my skin. The sudden movement of my shirt alerted my attention, a blur of white skirting my vision. The breeze snatched it from my waist slightly, and suddenly everything fell into place.

I looked down at my blouse gasping in the wind, and swallowed hard. Toby’s eyes lost their laughter as they met mine, and instead his mucky face softened with concern.

“Toby?” I whispered.

He didn’t reply but kept his gaze on my face as I uttered the words I never thought I’d say.

“Am I dead?”

Author's Note

Please leave some constructive criticism, I am thinking of submitting this as coursework for an A Level.
More to come - I am still writing it!

Reviews

[Elizabeth Bainbridge]

Wow Daisy, that was incredible! The imagery and adjectives used were so effective! I don't know if its just me but I got a bit confused at the end how she realised she was dead? Was it the white blur? Other than that, this piece of prose was absolutely amazing! Well done!

[Daisy Savage]

Yes - the white blur was her shirt blowing in the wind, linking back to the dead girl's white shirt blowing in the wind just after she got hit by the car at the beginning. Sorry if it was too subtle!