This is a short story I wrote a few years ago on an unfortunately now dead site called Ficlets. The whole concept of Ficlets was to tell stories in 1,024 characters or less. Of course, some of us cheated and made the stories chapters in longer ones (my longest was a 50 part fantasy story). If you want to see more, all the stories from Ficlets are stored at the Ficlets Memorial. My stuff (the good, the bad, and the seriously ugly) is here.

I hope you all enjoy this one. It's my personal favourite.


(originally published Sunday, November 18, 2007)

I watch the paramedics work. They’re trying so hard. I can’t see who they’re working on, but they’re determined.

I try to recall what happened. Everything flashes by in a blur. The party. Taking the keys from Tom. Driving him home.

We started arguing. I can’t quite recall about what, but it was loud. I guess I wasn’t paying as much attention to the road as I should have.

I remember lights.

A truck horn.

A loud crunch.


Then the ambulance was there. I saw them taking Tom away, but he looked okay. I hear them mention a broken leg and punctured lung.

My attention is brought back to the scene at my feet. They’re yelling, but something’s wrong. I’m hearing them like we’re at opposite ends of a long tunnel. They’re frantic, but it’s like they’re moving in slow motion. What’s going on?

“No good,” I hear one say. “She’s gone.” The person they worked so hard to save is dead.

Wait… She?

Oh, God. Me.

I’m dead. I’m only 17. I can’t be…

But I am.

So, what comes next? The afterlife, or just noth

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Thanks David for posting your writing here. I enjoyed reading it. Feel free to share more with us!

It's great!

Thanks, Steph. I'm glad you liked it. :-)


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