A stroll down the street

Yesterday while I was walking down a street. I don’t recall which street. The sun was out and unusually bright for a winter day. The street was not busy at first. The light was in my eyes. I found it easy to walk up and down the street without getting my feet wet. This was nice since most of the sidewalks had turned into mini streams flowing to who knows where. I jump over them now, because it is worse today. As I walk I take into account the sun. It is amazingly bright. Almost white in color. As I look I cover my face with my hand to get a glimpse of the traffic I am walking next too. The traffic is moving fast. I am walking parallel to it. We are heading away from the sun. I would say it is mid day. I notice the traffic getting fast. For a Sunday the traffic is moving almost too fast. I stop into a bike shop and no one is really there. I inquire about a bike I may want to purchase in the future. I get no response, at least not a recognizable response. I leave. I keep walking. The sun white and cold above me. Straight up; back and to the left. I hear nothing other than the cars. Ubiquitous sounds and a blur. I cannot escape it. I run. I have no idea where this street is. I am a few blocks over. I assume. I walk again, down a small slant across a parking lot entrance and boom. I hear it. I look over and as I do I hear breaks screech. Horns. I see a man on a motorcycle spin sideways, stop, fall, and he is crushed by a semi. Then nothing. The semi stops a man gets out and he cannot find the man on the motorcycle. He yells at me to help him. The man on the motorcycle is literally crushed to bits underneath the front of the semi. Another man comes and helps him removed what is left of the broken man and his bike. I look away. I look back again and see the motorcyclist wrapped in bandages. From who knows where. He is covered in blood and not moving. The semi driver gets up and disappears in his semi. As I dial 911 the man who came out of nowhere to help the semi driver tells me to dial 1212 instead. I do. I get no answer. Time is going by and the cyclist is not moving. Lying limp on the asphalt where he was placed. Nothing, no answer. I try again. Nothing. I dial 911 and I get no answer. I dial again and nothing. The man leaves me. Traffic is still moving. The motorcycle is no where to be found. The man once on the motorcycle is now lifeless. I have no idea what to do. I am asking myself where the semi driver went to. I think he was driving a dark colored semi. I missed the license plates though. Fuck, its been an hour. I don’t know what to do. He’s gone.


About Terry Scott Niebeling

Hello, My name is Terry Scott, a human being with flaws. twitter: @sirterryscott Buy my ebooks: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1/191-4788099-1818040?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=terry+scott+niebeling
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