Ordeal

[Slightly modified ST 2002 original]

The kid was not happy anymore. He had just discovered his earlier beliefs were no longer trustful. Quite on the contrary, they were a compassionless farce from the adult world. He didn't quite know how to react, whether to cry, to shout or to keep his mouth shut, dead shut, for many a good days from now.

The bedroom window was halfway open and he noticed the noise from the street had started to rise above usual levels. There just had been a car crash at the junction. That must be it, he thought. Now he could identify the bang he heard a moment ago, thus far escaping explanation. Slowly he got on his feet from the bed and approached the window. The scene didn't please him. One of the cars had suffered major damage, well visible on the side opposite the driver's. Apparently an old man had been badly injured and was now lying flat on the pavement, unconscious. A flock of people had soon materialized and was surrounding the place. The second car had its front largely smashed, oddly dented throughout, and a column of black smoke was lifting up from the deep dark regions of its engine. The kid realised there was still someone at the steering wheel. A paralyzed young person, dressed in some strange clothes. An angry fellow, most likely the other car's driver, was yelling at him, who was sinking. The ongoing episode was brutal, obscene.

The December day was growing sad and cold now that the sun was setting. The kid at the window in his room yawned a prolonged yawn. He didn't feel tired, only lied upon. The truth is never plain to see, we are just what we believe we are, and that can be easily influenced, he said to himself able to frame his thoughts.

The killer driver was wearing his pyjamas, oddly enough. He wasn't supposed to be killing anyone, neither today nor tomorrow, never. Overwhelmed by his action and by the grim persistence of the yelling man he burst into a spasmodic cry. From his vantage point the kid wondered why the young driver was dressed in his pyjamas. The threatening angry man had stopped shouting and was now proceeding to smash the top of the shattered car with his right clenched fist. He was furious beyond control. Meanwhile an ambulance had arrived. Two strong orderlies took the old dying man from the ground and placed him on a stretcher which they pushed carelessly into the ambulance. The back door was closed with similar little care and off they went amidst a wall of sound and spinning beams of orange light. A policeman the kid hadn't noticed so far helped the young driver to get off the car. The guy was shivering and some people had started to offer him some support. After a little while the police car disappeared as well, the killer driver inside, his upper body bent over his knees at the back seat. His wrecked car stayed behind, with the doors unlocked and the lights on. He was freezing in his pyjamas. No, this was not supposed to be happening. He pictured himself in his living-room's armchair, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, easy-going, having fun, killing nothing but time. If only he had not decided to take his car out of his parking garage a little earlier, once the van blocking the exit left. But he had to, he needed the car badly on the following day. Tears kept rolling down his cheeks.

The kid at the window could no longer see him crying, but the memory lingered on. The kid wasn't pleased. It was the first time he had seen a dying person and the vision was far from worth looking. And it had to be just on the evening of Christmas Day. He wished it hadn't happened, he wished that as strongly as he could wish something. Just awakened to one of the many disappointments of life, baffled, teased by the adult people, he knew miracles did not belong to his realm anymore. He had just learned it the hard, only possible way. All the same he couldn't help wishing the old man were still alive, he wished the fatal crash hadn't happened.

The kid went to sleep with an agitated mind but when he woke up the next morning he felt the accident never took place. He rushed to the room at the end of the corridor only to find his older brother peacefully sleeping in his silk, grey-striped pyjamas.