I couldn’t remember my car crash

It was a usual January morning in a suburban area near Kolkata. I was sitting on a small wooden bench in front of a small shack that sold tea and other tidbits. I could see people wrapped in their woollens hurrying about with their daily activities. Their queer antics were amusing as always. After realising that my glass of tea was empty, I got up, paid the bill and left the place.
I continued walking along the canal as the morning breeze blew upon my face. Weirdly it didn’t feel cold. I thought it must be a continuing effect of the scotch I had last night.
Last night was one of the best I had spent except one little incident. I had been invited to a close friend’s birthday. The arrangement was beyond expectations, overflowing with booze and food. The deejay had quite a collection which made everyone dance as if there was no tomorrow. I am no dancer but even I couldn’t stop myself last night. The party ended almost at dawn today.
I was a long way from home but the scotch forbid me from realizing it. I started in my car just before sun started to rise. It was open road, I was driving fast and it happened. A calf came out of nowhere. I swerved my car to save it and the rest is kind of hazy. That reminded me, where the hell is my car. And why am I walking? Where am I exactly?
Then I looked down and I realized I wasn’t exactly walking. I was floating over the ground. I wanted to find my way back to the highway. The car had to be somewhere on the way. As I neared the highway I could hear ambulance sirens and loud chatter on police radio. I followed the sound. In a short amount of time I reached the source of the noise. There was a car crash. I heard someone say it was a case of drunken driving. I moved ahead oblivious of the surroundings.
Then I saw my car, crashed into a tree and me on the driver’s seat behind a shattered windshield, a branch impaled in my chest.

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4 thoughts on “I couldn’t remember my car crash”

      1. Very well built, structured and loved how you built the climax. Word painting is what I loved best about this short story. I could see, smell and hear a winter morning back home while reading it.

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