I miss how life used to be. Before Tim existed, before I'd gone crazy, people would actually talk to me. There was a group of people the I would hand out with just like any typical teenager. It's easy to understand why they now avoided me with caution. I'm unlucky and accident prone, or you could just say that I'm haunted. True, Tim is a haunting, but I guess I just have to live with it.
The creation of Tim happened four years ago at my friends house. I was invited to spend the night at her house. It was the perfect night for telling ghost stories, for the wind whipped the hail into the windows and lightening thrashed through the midnight sky.
After the stories were told, we decided to fall asleep. It was 2:07am when the crash outside woke me to a start. The flash of the headlights poured through the window and on our faces. I woke up my friends parents and we all went outside. A white ford pick-up was laying in it's top in the ditch across the road. The fence was completely demolished and the horses ran free. A woman crawled out of the windshield, holding a small bow while blood dripped from her forehead. We called 911 while in the background I heard her crying the boys name.
"Timmy!" She screamed, shaking his limp body. "Timmy come back!"
We were sent back inside the house. Through the window I could see the paramedics doing there best to heal the boy. I could hear the woman's screams through the cracked-open door. It was hard to tell if she was screaming from the glass being pulled from her skin or from the blue sheet being pulled over the boy's body. The drizzling rain made the moment all the more dreary.
Tim
- May 26, 2011
- sunshinekow
- 2 Comments
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