Categories > Original > Drama

September 3rd, 2012

by Skeff 1 review


Category: Drama - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Published: 2013-02-23 - Updated: 2013-09-05 - 1248 words - Complete


It was maybe the third or fourth week of school, and I was starting to get into the groove of getting up at the ungodly hours of the morning required for my day's worth of learning.

During the past month, I figured out that I like being at my bus stop early; it's nice and quiet before my peers turn up.

I get up, as I usually do, and get dressed. While brushing my hair, I watch the early morning news for the weather report.

"It's going to be a cool, damp day, light showers over to the west; you can really tell is fall!" The weatherman on tv says to the camera, smiling. "And now here's the current temperatures across the state, about seventy degrees for the high, fifty-six for the low."

It's six am, and I'm freezing in my bedroom. Yeah I'm going to take a nice jacket to keep me all warm.

I wake up my brother, and tell him I'm leaving, so he'd better start to get up.

Eric has to be at work about an hour after I leave, so I'm his alarm clock.

I put my jacket on in the kitchen, grab my bag, and I'm out the door into the dark early morning. Living in a small town, I don't have but a few porch lights and the last bit of moonlight to light my five-minute walk to the bus stop.

I get to the edge of my road and turn left, on to one of the main roads. I walk for a minute before I reach a stop sign for a three-way crossroad and stop.

To my left about one hundred yards away, is a little hometown restaurant. Nobody's there now, except the owner and a delivery truck.

Just as i got there, an icy cold wind whipped around me, making me shrink into my jacket for warmth.

"'The-low-is-fifty-six,' my ass!" I mutter, mocking the weatherman and scowling at the stop sign.

Two cars pass by, and I go to stargazing. It's a little side hobby, no advanced telescopes, just staring at astronomical beauty.

I hear an engine start, and I look over to my left; the delivery man is pulling out of the small parking lot. Hmm, must've been a small delivery, I had seen him park when I was walking up to the stop.

Just as the front end of the small white van drove to the edge of a lane, a flash of metallic red slammed into the vehicle, clipping it's front bumper, making the delivery truck spin about ninety degrees clockwise.

I watched silently in slow motion and horror as the red minivan spun three times and landed headlights-first in a nearby ditch.

I don't know what I was thinking at the time, but I rushed over to the white vehicle, and opened the door.

To both my surprise and relief, he didn't have a scratch on him! His nose was bleeding a bit from the impact of the airbag, but he seemed ok.

"Go tell Gregory to call 9-1-1, NOW!" I yelled at the man, and he took off running.

~A/N: Gregory is the restaurant owner.~

I sprinted to the shallow ditch, and couldn't think of anything else to do but to try to get everyone out; Hopefully unscathed.

I found the drivers side door easy to open, and found a middle-aged woman with a little blood coming from her forehead passed on the deflating airbag. Her arm looked like it shouldn't have been bending that way.

I quickly got her out and laid her down at the top of the ditch. Then I heard something.

No. Someone.

A little girl. Screaming. For her mommy, along with someone named 'Michael.'

I leapt down the muddy ditch and yanked the driver's side back door open, to see a blonde girl, about six or seven years old, with a gash on her left shoulder.

She looked at me, and had the kind of look where you just wanted to do everything in your power to make that look go away.

"Honey, it's ok, I got your mommy out safe," I say, almost out of breath as I undo her seatbelt. The girl relaxes a little, yet is still freaking out about 'Michael.'

I take her out, and notice the paramedics are out there getting her mother on to a gurney. A cop is there, and nods at me in approval as I hand him the small child, who's still blubbering about this 'Michael' fellow.

~A/N: my town doesn't have it's own police force or medical department, too small a town; a city near us has officers that patrol and are on call for this town. Yeah not many cops around here.~

I hear a groan of pain and look to the front passenger side, seeing a boy around my age, bleeding a little from his mouth.

I look down as I climb in the driver's seat, noticing his right leg looks a bit crushed under the bent door, and it's bleeding badly.

Nope, can't handle this.

I yell for the paramedics and they mutter that they'll need the 'jaws of life' to get him out so they can save his leg. They walk off to call the fire department.

He seems to be a bit too dazed from the crash to notice the pain, because he's bleeding like crazy and is only groaning.

Man he is losing a lot of blood.

I get an idea to stop the bleeding

I take off my jacket, ignoring the sting of the cool air as I slip off my belt and tie it tightly just above where the large cut he's bleeding from.

I take my jacket and start applying pressure to the wound, and it slows the blood flow really well.

By time the firemen get Michael out of the car, he's passed out again, his mom is sitting in the ambulance rocking her daughter, my hands and forearms are covered in Michael's blood, and there are three news vans just outside the restaurant.

I'm asked a few questions about what happened by the police as the ambulance drives off and two tow trucks show up to get both vans.

The police write some notes, and let me go, saying I should go wash up.

I'm in a haze as I pass some reporters and a small crown from our neighborhood, not believing what just happened. Or what I had done in the situation.

Weeks passed and things mostly went back to normal. Mostly.

I was featured on local news shows and the newspaper for my quick-thinking, and bravery. It was all kids talked about for two weeks at my school, and everyone wanted to talk to me. I received a beautiful thank you note from that little girl, Shauna, and it's currently sitting on my dresser.

Needless to say, it was all pretty cool.

Around the third week I was at my locker, getting a book for French class. I closed my locker and started to walk away, but I heard an unfamiliar voice say "Wait!"

I turned to see a teen making his way towards me through the small crowd of students on a pair of crutches. He had something in his hand.

He got in front of me, and handed me the thing, saying "Thanks." With a sheepish smile. Then he crutches away.

I looked down. It was my belt.
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