Bone Leaves

An extremely short story with a chilling twist

It was not a cold night. There was no breeze. I could hear the crunch of the leaves from under my sneakers. The sound was crisp and carried through the still air. With each step it was a loud and unending crackle. It was almost too loud for my liking, it sounded like bones being broken, and I began to walk more cautiously and lightly. My car had no condensation on it, and thus I didn’t have to wipe my hand on my jeans after I opened the door.

The car came to life with the turn of the key. The lights opened up the night. I was glad to be driving again, it had been nearly six months since I was able to drive a car. My right leg still didn’t work like it used to. But no matter. I just need to keep on keepin’ on.

I pulled out of my driveway, making a left turn using only one hand. I neglected to use my blinker, figuring there was no need since it was about 4:30 am on a Sunday. My car and the road felt so perfectly in tune together. They were two jigsaw pieces that had finally connected. The road I lived on was named Brook Street.

I accelerated to about 45 miles an hour and drove down Brook Street for a mile or so. I hated living so far from any gas station. All I wanted was a pack of cigarettes. You would think in a town as big as this one a gas station would be nearby.

I left the radio off. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts.

I came to a red light. My eyes began to tire. I rubbed them vigorously, I only needed to stay awake for a little while longer. Once I got the cigarette it would wake me up for sure.

The light turn green, and I lightly pressed the gas. I was too exhausted to floor it.

The other car smashed into me without hesitation. I remember holding my hand up, attempting to shield my eyes from their blinding headlights. My car contorted to the impact and I could feel my body twist in all different directions. The impact knocked the wind out of me.

I woke up sitting down on the road. I looked down at my throbbing arm. The bone stuck out like a skewed painting. I touched it, it was hard and solid like a rock. I tasted blood in my mouth. It tasted like liquid pennies. The only light was the faint moonlight and the intersection about 100 feet behind me.

The air remained still. I will never forget how silent it was. As I got up, I heard the leaves under me crack.