The Cottage

The following is an excerpt from the Short Story ‘The Cottage’. The full story will be online very soon!

[1] The Crash

It all happened so quickly.

By the time he saw the deer burst through the trees, it was too late. His instant reaction was to swerve. But swerve where? He couldn’t see a thing through the storm.

There was a bang.

A moment of silence as the deer crashed against the Wind Shield, cracking it.

Lights beamed against the trees as they revolved around the spinning car.

His arms turning the wheel in a futile attempt to gain control.

His head bounced up as the car hit a dip, the roof smacking his head.

Suddenly the world tumbled, he’d lost control.

His head crashed against the glass, the pressure of his body pushing on his neck – pushing on his head.

His cheek became numb. He could taste blood in his mouth.

He started thinking to himself, is this death? How could this be death? He never had a chance? He never had a chance to save himself!

And as he found himself motionless, frozen in place he realised it wasn’t as bad as he had feared it would be, he’d always envisaged Death with more pain than he was feeling.

He thought of the loneliness his life had become. The chances and choices he had spurned. The friendships he had lost.

Known by few, loved by less.

Oh how he would have given death the hand of friendship for the chance to have loved, and to have been loved.

But he would simply fade away.

It was kind of peaceful.

The car had stopped rolling.

Everything became dark.

Nothing.

A light.

What was that?

Nothing.

Muffled noise.

Something was happening. A light was being shined in his eye. There was a man standing over him, lights flashing in the background.

He was trying to say something.

And then, nothing.

Rain was falling, gently on his face. He felt himself rising, jutting.

He tried to turn his head, he couldn’t. He seemed to be strapped in.

“…Careful…” A voice in the background said. Was it shouted? Was it gentle? Was it even spoken? He wasn’t sure.

Technicians either side of him. He was moving. He was being put into the Ambulance.

Did something happen? He thought to himself. Was I in an accident?

And then nothing once again.

Lights burst into view. Passing overhead.

Where am I? He thought to himself.

Confusion reigned.

How was he moving? Again, he tried to move his head. Again, he couldn’t. It felt like it was about to explode. But every time he had a thought, it would disappear just as quickly.

He was scared. Terrified even. But it was a primal fear. A fear that was wild because it knew danger was upon him, but couldn’t work out what that danger was.

The lights contined to flow above his head.

And darkness once more engulfed his mind.

A noise.

…beep

…beep

…beep…

Dakrness.

He tried to open his eyes. Nothing. His body seemed limp.

Resigned.

Acceptance.

The noise became a long, solitary drain.

“Clear!” A voice shouted.

He felt his body jolt up. But he was relaxed. Calm. There was no pain.

It was as if he was floating within himself.

“We’re…los…him.” Panic surrounded him.

Distant panic.

Another jolt.

He could see the darkness, surrounding him. Comforting him. Holding him.

Embracing him.

“Clear!” Again it whispered.

The next jolt was in slow motion, as if not even part of him.

Everything started to fall into place. Everything started to fall away.

And as he drifted beyond the realm of wherever he was, John Walters felt as if everything was going to be ok.

Echoed words, drifting after him, as the darkness took hold.

They simply said; “…he’s gone…”