Hit and Run
He was driving too fast to see them early enough. One minute he was shouting at the kids in the back to calm down, the next, two shadowy figures were just there; in front of the car; riding the windscreen; falling limply to the floor with a sickening slow roll as the car pulled too slowly to a halt.
The sweat poured from his forehead; he looked in disbelief at the young bodies tangled together on the road. His face was aglow, his eyes large. His children for once sat quietly in their seats. His mind was unusually empty of thought, his body still. For one second he thought; ah, this is what its like to have no thoughts, no mind. It was relieving, a pleasure in that moment. He relaxed, his shoulders visibly sinking, relieved of the weight they had been carrying for the last few hours.
Frank climbed out of the car, aware of every movement; aware of how his leg caught momentarily on the handbrake, aware of his arms as they eased his body out onto the tarmac. A piercing wind slapped his cheeks. The youngest child began to cry - muttering from the back seat, and again silence. He stood, in apparent collectedness, wondering whether his tea would be ready when he arrived home. He glanced again at the bodies. A car’s headlights flashed into his eyes, at the same time as another sharp gasp of wind slashed his cheeks. The slap of the cold and the flash of lights shook his mind awake. In front of him two young girls were lying either dead or unconscious because of him. Of course he was concerned for their welfare, but the reality was that they shouldn’t have been crossing a dual carriageway at any time, let alone in the dark with no reflective clothing. He really did need to get the kids home for their tea, they would be cold and hungry and their mother would be worried.
At that moment another car pulled up and its driver threw open the door and rushed to the silent bodies. He bent over them, close to their faces, squatted low, and pulled out a mobile...