Northern_Lights_2017

17 Still Alive Nicolas Harrison Life doesn’t always flash before a person’s eyes before their death. Instead, I’ve heard stories from friends and family that claim that in the last few moments, life slows down to a snail’s pace; it seems to almost stop. The person becomes hyper-aware of their surroundings and notices every detail in the highest awareness. They become Father Time’s twin. Now it’s my turn to see what powers Father Time possesses. I didn’t expect to die this soon; it certainly isn’t part of my five-point life plan. Nope, this definitely is going to mess that up, especially with the whole “being alive” part soon out the window. It was pretty bad luck that I ended up driving home on one of Grand Junction’s rare “foggier than London” nights, unable to see more than ten feet ahead of my car. It was also pretty bad luck that I hit one of winter’s final spots of black ice, almost a last hurrah of sorts. No hurrahs were coming from me, though. The worst luck of it all was the emerging lights of a semi barreling at me, having hit another hidden patch of ice up the road, losing control of his truck and flatbed loaded with tractor tires. I slammed on my brakes, hoping to avoid the inevitable. My hands rocket to the steering wheel; I’m desperately trying to straighten out my now flailing car. Damn my ignorance! I knew I needed new tires; my father had warned me to replace them. Instead of heeding his caution, I’m shooting crookedly at the hulking body of a semi. The semi’s horn is blaring; it’s the only thing ringing in my ears. I wish he’d lay off it; we both already know what’s about to happen. Our vehicles are becoming infinitely closer. The semi has its brights on; they’re blinding me, causing white spots to appear in my vision. Our vehicles collide. I feel myself begin to jolt forward, but my seatbelt snaps me back with an astonishing force. I hear my car crunch inward with a sickening sharpness. The metal is twisting and ripping further inward, hungry to attack me. I can’t breathe; my seatbelt has me in a death grip against my seat, crushing my chest. My hands slip to my face as glass shatters everywhere, showering my body. In the middle of this chaos, my mind wonders what all this would look like from an outside observation. I can feel my car lurch further backward, the semi easily pushing it closer to the edge of the road. Soon nothing will separate us from the thousand-foot fall to the Colorado River below. Why did I settle for living in the mountains? I’ve always hated heights. My car radio is blaring “Highway to Hell” by ACDC. My favorite band is going to sing me the most fitting song there ever was for a situation like this. Ironic. It’s almost over; the cliff edge is less than ten feet away; the safety rail will only add damage to my already totaled car. I can feel my car smash through the railing, going through it like dental floss. This is it, I’m about to die. I open my eyes to watch the fall. As we’re about to go over, my steering wheel twists unexpectedly to the right and my car swerves to the side, saving me from the fall. The semi is stopped beside me, still connected to my car. I’m gripping my steering wheel with such force that my hands are aching. I’m alive. I survived the crash. My back wheels are hanging off the cliff. I realize I need to get out. I unbuckle and climb out through the missing windshield. The semi driver has also exited his vehicle; he’s on the phone, probably calling 911. I climb off my car and stumble several feet away. Everything is fading away. The truck driver is off the phone and yelling, rushing towards me. He’s got some blood on his face; I notice a gash on his face. Am I bleeding? I look down and see a piece of glass wedged in my leg, blood oozing down my leg. My eyes widen and suddenly I find myself in a tunnel, the world growing darker all around me until all that remains is the blackness. I feel myself stumble and then fall, passing out. I can’t believe I’m still alive.