EPTI saw the red firetruck at the top of the road.
It honked its horn twice.
There was a second firetruck coming behind it.
There was even a police car following the firetrucks.
The firetrucks were moving fast.
They were rushing to an emergency.
I was walking toward the road.
I slowed down.
The firetrucks hurtled down the twisting road.
They came closer and the sirens blared louder.
I took two more steps and stopped.
The front grill of the firetruck shined brightly.
When the firetruck reached several meters up the road from where I stood, I thought about what it would be like if I ran in front of it. How fast could I run? What would be the correct timing? ... ... ... Now. ... . Yes, that would have done it. I could almost feel the immense blunt force trauma that would smash in my face. I imagined myself being pushed along, draped over the front of the shiny grill. The firetrucks would come to a stop down the road, and the firemen would rush out to evaluate the new emergency they had created. Would it really be that quick and easy?
I felt the wind blow as the firetrucks passed.
The sirens and horns were so loud.
One, two, three. Whoosh.
The alarms grew fainter as the firetrucks drove away.
I looked both ways, then crossed the road.
My heart was beating quickly.
I was scared. That was disturbingly close. The sudden opportunity was so convenient. The feeling of impact was so real and vivid. How close was I really?
I apologize for this morbid “poem”. I wish to assure anyone who might be worried for my well-being that I do not intend to do anything drastic or self-destructive. It happened last week, and I was genuinely surprised how scared and nervous I was after the cars passed. The simplicity and innocence of the event inspired the attempt to write this in a children’s story style.
