Oman has the 2nd highest road toll per capita in the world. The following short story was an attempt to address that. It also won the 2014 Times of Oman Short Story Competition.
A Single Second
0.978…
I should have been wearing my seatbelt.
I was driving so fast that I barely even saw the white SUV that suddenly pulled out in front of me. My foot is still on the accelerator, without even having time to begin the short transition towards the brake. The sickening sound of metal on metal is already beginning to ring in my ears as the front of my car begins to disintegrate.
0.873…
My body has now left my seat and begun accelerating forward at an alarming speed. My hands have involuntarily began to grip the steering wheel tighter, which is a natural reaction, but effectively useless. My eyelids have reopened again after blinking upon impact and pupils are beginning to dilate as adrenaline floods my brain – trying to prepare me…
I never thought this would happen to me. Accidents always happened to other people. Sure, I was driving too fast and not wearing a seatbelt, like I always do, but I refused to wear a seatbelt out of principle. In fact, I had stopped wearing a seatbelt the day my Father died. It was my silent, stupid way of fighting the fact that death had taken him from me. His funeral was difficult for all of the family and afterwards my Grandfather had explained that life was short, and that we should always make the most of each and every single day. He also made me promise to always wear a seatbelt, and I promised I would – but secretly I vowed not to.
My Father always wore a seatbelt, but he had still died in a car crash. What use was a seatbelt?
0.726…
My head is now approaching the steering wheel, but it is happening too quickly for my eyes to focus properly. My hands are still trying to grip the steering wheel. Holding on desperately for some bizarre reason. The muscles in my leg have begun to contract and my foot has just begun to lift from the accelerator but it’s too slow and too late.
Despite the chaos around me, my mind suddenly seems clear. It must be the adrenalin, or some other miracle chemical in my brain that has given the external world a remarkable slow-motion effect.
Suddenly I am no longer in my car. I am a little boy once more, sitting on my Father’s lap as he drives his old car. It smells of diesel and cigarettes, and I am pretending to steer the steering wheel while my Father is telling me what to look out for. I am laughing, and next to me my little sister is standing up on the passenger seat looking out the window. Also laughing. I can feel the happiness like it’s all around us and I want this moment to last forever.
0.645…
My head has now hit the top of the steering wheel. A glancing blow. I feel the sudden change in direction as my head starts moving upwards, but there is no pain. In fact, I feel nothing as dopamine floods the pain receptors in my brain, numbing all sensation. Shielding me from the heart-stoppingly awful reality.
Once again I am suddenly sitting in a different car, but I don’t really recognise it from the inside. I am driving, and my hands a re trembling a little bit. There is a smell in the air of my own sweat. Why am I nervous? We approach two people and their faces trigger a sudden realization of where I am.
I have just passed my drivers test, and I pull up alongside my Mother and sister. They look towards me apprehensively, as they have already had to deal with my anger and frustration at failing my three previous driving tests. I frown at them and shake my head, and their faces drop further. I throw the door open and I can contain my happiness no longer. An enormous smile grows from one side of my face to the other. “I passed” I say to them, and they embrace me. Hugging me tightly. Smiling. “Mabrook, my son” my Mother whispers to me.
I have wanted a driver’s license for so long, and now I was finally free to drive anywhere I wanted to go. I could go on adventures. I could drive to Dubai. To Saudi. A new world was now open to me… but there is a lingering thought of sadness. If only my Father was here to see me now.
0.492…
The initial collision between my head and steering wheel has caused my brain to hit the inside of my skull, lighting up pain centers which I can see, rather than feel. Like stars in the night’s sky. If that makes any sense? My head is still going upwards, but the force of my body is also driving it forwards, towards the windscreen.
I’m now in a small wooden boat. My Grandfather’s boat. We’re about half a mile off the coast. Around Yiti. Pulling in barracudas. There’s a basket of small baitfish, that we attach hooks to, then throw into the ocean. Inevitably about 30 seconds later a writhing barracuda with needle-like teeth is retrieved by my Grandad.
The fresh salt air of the sea smells so good. I wish I could bottle it and breathe it forever. As we bob up and down on the small waves we start talking. I tell him I am worried about getting married. I don’t know how it will be to live with a woman. He starts laughing, telling me that I will learn quickly enough. He has met my wife-to-be and tells me she is an amazing woman and will make a beautiful, generous wife. He was right, as always.
He changes the conversation to me providing him with a grandson, and we fall silent for a moment. I tell him that I still miss my Father and he looks away, across to the horizon. There is a tear in his eye. “He was my son, and I miss him too. He was strong, like you are strong. I believed in him, and I believe in you – and I will be here to act as your Father whenever you need me”.
Splash! Another barracuda hits the floor of the boat, and my grandfather is smiling as he easily unhooks it.
0.388…
My head has just hit the windscreen. Cracking it. This has caused severe trauma to my brain, and my spine has begun to impact upon itself. Vertebrae colliding violently and nerves severed. These injuries are serious and cannot be reversed. Even if I make it through this, I will never walk again.
I am no longer in a car. I am now at home with my wife. After spending 40 nights at her parent’s place, she is finally home with me, and our son. An impossibly tiny baby. So small. So perfect.
They are both lying in bed, with him asleep on her chest. This is the happiest I have ever been in my entire life, and I feel a tear rolling down the side of my cheek. Then another. And another. My family. In my home.
After all I have been through in my life it feels like I have been rewarded a hundred times over for my troubles. Everything feels so natural. Everything feels exactly like it is meant to be.
0.227…
The smash. The momentum of my body has now driven my head through the windscreen, causing my skull to crack. The broken glass has cut my face and neck. One individual shard has pierced my eyelid and scratched my cornea. Another, far more deadly shard has gone into my neck, slashing an artery open.
I am still in my home, but time has passed. My beautiful, adorable perfect 5-year-old boy is now sitting on my knee. “Daddy… what was your Daddy like?” Such an intelligent question from a 5-year-old. “He was big and strong. Like me. But even bigger and stronger” I reply. My son thinks about this for a while. “And where did he go?” I sigh inwardly. How do you explain death to a child? “He returned to Allah, but we will see him in heaven one day”. Again, my son ponders. “Can we go and see him in heaven now?” I smile broadly at him. “No, we can’t, but it will happen one day, Inshallah. Until then, you must always remember that life is short, and we must make the most of each and every day”.
0.119…
The glass has completely severed my arteries, causing my heart to begin to falter. My spine is crushed together. There is no way for oxygen to get to my brain. I feel nothing. While there may still be signs of life in me, it is fading fast.
I am now in a dark corridor, and there is a blindingly bright light at the end of the corridor. I take a step towards the light. Then another, and another. I begin to run, getting faster and faster and as I approach the light I jump headfirst into it, as if drawn to it by an unseen force. As I fall through the light I feel two strong arms catch me. My Father smiles down at me with tears in his eyes.
0.013…
There is nothing left. My body is broken. My brain is shutting down. I have just enough time for one final thought. One last statement before I depart this world. One final echo to encapsulate my life, and all those I leave behind. One last regret…
