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Twenty One Pilots – Car Radio

 

A shrill octave followed by the life renouncing coda.

Music awoke him from the car radio.

Something cool was dripping down his forehead, trailing along his nose and into his mouth. He coughed up metallic spittle, several teeth caught in the crossfire. Everything was red. A deep crimson and submerged in melting metal.

He picked his head up from the driving wheel, shards of glass rustling through his hair to fall onto his lap. His left arm was unresponsive.

He turned to his right. A woman he once knew well was hunched over, hair fused with gore and vehicle. Motionless.

Coughing up another tooth, he weakly called her name.

No response but the furnace of heat roaring from the car engine, and the soothing sounds of Chopin playing on the radio.

Could he even dare to turn around, to look behind him at the scene in the child’s seat? A brief look in the rear-view mirror proved his worst fear true.

It was all his fault. His vision blurred as tears mixed with blood, but he couldn’t hear anything over the blissful tunes of the violin on that damn radio.

So he returned to sleep.

 

 

You can read the rest of my musically-inspired series, A Tendency for Bitternesshere!

Copyright © 2017 Rebecca Sherratt

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