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TITLE (EDIT)
Crazy Crash |
DESCRIPTION
Just plain stupid
[645 words] |
AUTHOR
Johnny Abrahams |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
Has ideas but lacks talent and skill to commit completely to writing his perfect novel.
[March 2007] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (6)
Do Memories Really Have A Title? (Non-Fiction) Seriously no point in reading unless over 35 and drunk, I am not kidding but hey you think you know better so go right ahead, don't get smart or witty. You are being stupid by pretending to not read i... [168 words] [Relationships]
Don't Mind Her, She's 'armless (Short Stories) Ugly people have feelings too. [1,000 words] [Horror]
God Does Indeed Understand Irony (Short Stories) Basically a strange way to die. [691 words]
In The End All Becomes Clear (Short Stories) When death comes knocking, do you open the door? [831 words] [Drama]
Is Evil Edible? (Short Stories) A very brief introductory work by a person who wishes he could write better than he can. [542 words] [Mystical]
Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven (Short Stories) A man searches for his father but will he find him? [3,026 words] [Thriller]
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Crazy Crash
Johnny Abrahams
Skin gave way to raw flesh, raw flesh gave way to fat, fat gave way to the muscle, rupturing blood vessels caused the friction to slightly abate but the smell of burning flesh filled the surrounding air. What was left of the muscle gave way and the bone started to bounce like a dice on a craps table. After what seemed like an eternity motion ceased. My vision was impaired considering I had only one eye left and that was a blood soaked mess. Picking my body up I felt a gigantic force hit me in the back and knock me onto ground face first and an audible crack was heard as my skull was crushed into hard merciless asphalt. The remains of my bike bounced away leaving shrapnel and indents to mark its passage.
I attempt somewhat foolishly to poke my brain back into its hiding place, but the more I push on one side caused a greater amount to come out the other. I decide to pick bits of rib from my lungs as I am having trouble breathing. It took awhile but I finally realised that my pelvis has spun ninety degrees and was now jutting out in front me. I instinctively reach for my neck just to check if it is on straight. Well at least I have somewhere to rest my beer in future. My nose itches trying to scratch it I discover that my left arm now faces backwards and I end up scratching the back of my head instead.
After an eternity I stand up only to slip in a pile of my own blood causing me to slide off balance crashing down onto my coccyx splintering it in the process. Jeez I cannot wait for my next bowel movement. Chunky. Physically throwing myself to my feet I went in search of my eye, skull, connecting tissue and skin, finding my eye I grasp it from some weeds and try to chew it clean, strange, all of my teeth are missing. I am surprised that my thought patterns haven’t changed to make up for the lack of teeth. I put the eye ball back in and get a really good close up of my nose. Smacking my ear continuously I managed to obtain correct vision except for my horizontal hold. Realising that I am still but my vision goes up and down I realigned my nose into somewhat a straight line and go looking for me teeth.
Vaguely remembering long lost teachings I put one bloody stump in front of the other. Aimlessly I wander only changing directions when granite inserted itself into my nose or when nerve endings in my legs were triggered by small grassy spurs. The smell of petrol starts to fill my nose, I must be close to my bike, my poor bike up until this morning it stood in pristine condition proudly receiving all of the attention lavished on it from friends and strangers. Now it resembles some early picasso drawing both headlights on one side of the fairing, its a pity that the fairing isn’t attached though. A faint rumbling presence works it way into my stomach absent mindedly I endeavour to scratch my scrotum, a loose sack becomes incredibly pliable in my hands. Double over in a pain quite indescribable I find some hard ground and jump repeatedly onto the surface until I feel the movement and the pain subsided somewhat.
Coughing up what looks like an entire melted tire I wipe phlegm and spittle and carrots from my chin, a clear translucent finger now stretches from my mouth to my arm. What was I doing here? Why aren’t I dead surely these injuries would either of killed or left me unmovable with pain. Gremlins appear on either side of me and escort me some what hazily towards a bright light.
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READER'S REVIEWS (1)
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"Well, what can i say but what a load of crap, unless you are stoned then man utter great, write more, but increase the dosage" -- Peter Gigermesiters.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 1991 Johnny Abrahams |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
May 2002 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2240
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