Car Crash - Blog Posts

I feel like the only reason those of us who aren't in the US are watching the inauguration today is the sort of morbid curiosity that makes people watch a car crash. It honestly feels like I'm watching people's lives and freedoms be crushed in real time.

Found out Anton who plays Chekov in Star Trek had passed away in 2016, I had no clue till recently, he is missed

Ok a scale of 1 to 10 how embarrassing is it that I got in a car crash and broke my toes chat. Also have a Litheria she looked gorgeous last chapter

"It wasn’t supposed to go like this," They said. "It wasn’t supposed to be like this," Sorder, aka Riley Cowel, spoke to your grave.

The sun was shining. Your grave had bundles of flowers from your loved ones. And your villain, your archnemesis, who very much was not supposed to know your real identity, was standing there, with a bouquet of purple and black irises.

It had been a freak accident. A car crash, the kind of thing that happened every day. You knew, now, that the other driver's brakes had malfunctioned and their wheels had skidded on the ice. It was no one's fault, not even your own, that you died.

Warren, the Earthen Hero, protector of the city, dead in a car accident.

And no one to know. You'd never told anyone your identity. Not your friends, not your family, no civilians through a slip of the mask, no one. No one to know Warren was dead the same moment Owen Trayton flatlined in the hospital. No one.

Except, somehow, Sorder.

"It wasn’t supposed to end like this," They said. "God, couldn't it have been a blaze of glory? If front of the whole world, for everyone to see. For everyone to mourn. Bet there'd be a statue," Sorder grinned. "And you wouldn't even want it. When I want a statue, I'm a megalomaniac, but you-," Sorder's smile fell and they sighed.

"You could've had everything. Fame and recognition. Support. And yet you told no one. I searched for you, you know. Or, well, you didn't know as Iong as I did the whole stalking thing right. And you know what I found?"

Sorder crouched down, staring at your name on the gravestone. "Owen Trayton, working two minimum wage jobs because you can't hold down anything else down while still being a hero. Warren, getting shouted at when he's late delivering a pizza because he had been thwarting me. The Earthen hero, tired and still smiling that stupid, heroic smile working retail,"

For a moment, Sorder said nothing. The wind ruffled their hair and brushed through the flowers they were holding. They placed their purple and black bouquet among the other flowers given by your friends and family, and sighed. "'Not with a bang, but a whimper'," They whispered. "No one will know what happened to Warren. Did you think of that? The mystery you could leave behind? Or did you not care? Abandoning fame and fortune, even in death. Leaving me behind too,"

A pause. "I'm the only one who knows. I could expose you, of course. They wouldn't listen at first, assume I had faked your death. The populace always wants to hope. To keep faith. But then you'd never show up. I could make them listen," Sorder sighed again and sat on the ground.

"But I won't. I'll keep your secret, just as I have ever since I learned your name. And just to keep things even, I'll tell you my own secret. You already know my legal name, that's the nature of things when you've been arrested a dozen times. But no one but myself has ever learned the meaning behind Sorder.

"It's a combination of two words. Sordid, because what kind if villain would I be if I didn't have evil in my name?" They smirked. "But it's also another word. Sonder. The feeling you get when you realize everyone's lives are just as complicated as yours. Each person, unique in their lives and homes and tastes, seeing everything through their own eyes. I may be a villain, but I do have standards. Limits. I wanted to be reminded of those limits everytime you shouted my name.

"People could die, during my crusade. On accident, on purpose, it could happen. There's very limits I have, to achieving the world I want to see. But I have to remember, that people aren't stepping stones to get there. They're people. The road I pave is in blood and bones and broken dreams and broken hearts and broken people. I can never forget that. Even you,"

Sorder smiled faintly, bitterness twinging at the corners of their lips. "You were my obstacle, my nemesis, my enemy. And you worked minimum wage and lived in a shitty apartment and didn't want anyone to know about your alternate life, on either end. So,"

Sorder stood up, brushing the dried grass off on their pants, "I won't tell anyone. Your name will be a memory, both names. The end of the hero Warren will remain a mystery, and the fate of Owen Trayton a common tragedy. You're welcome," They sighed. "You probably aren't even hearing me. I don't really belive in life after death. Maybe my secret remains entirely my own. But I don't know that, so I'll believe you do,"

They sigh again, frowning at your gravestone. "I'm not going to retire. I'm not going to stop. I have a goal, Warren, and I'm going to do my best to achieve it. Maybe some little hero wannabe will show up and stop me. Maybe they won't. Maybe I win, Warren," Sorder smiled bitterly at the ground. "You'd argue with me, if you could. Say an ideal could never be defeated, I'd never win, as long as hope persists. I disagree. But I'll be nice. It's a draw, Warren. In the end, I never defeated you. Spiting me, even in death. How... you,"

Sorder smiled softly and put their hand on your gravestone. The sun was shining. There was an extra bouquet of flowers on your grave. And Sorder, Riley Cowel, slipped their hand off your gravestone and walked away.

They didn't look back.

You die in a freak accident and watch your funeral as a spirit. You’re shocked to see who comes to pay their last respects to you.

As I drove along the highway that night, a snowy November evening, I suspected little of the contents of the evening; it had been a fulfilling one, after all. After leaving work, I had gone with some friends to get drinks at a nearby bar, a favorite of one of my coworkers, and I’d promised for a while to join them.

Before I left, I had gone to the bathroom, and on the way out, walked into someone. A woman, probably no older than thirty, who I did not know. I apologized, but she made eye contact with me, almost blankly. Then, in a somber tone, as if she was delivering a verdict, “It ends tonight.”

I thought nothing of it, and continued drinking with my friends.

Maybe that was a mistake.

Maybe I drank too much that night.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the drive.

The night was dark and the road was dimly lit by poorly-spaced lamps, and though I had made the trip many times, I had never done it in the dark. But I was not afraid; I had no fear of the dark, I didn’t fear the car that was behind me, even when they swerved in their lane. I did not fear them when they were alongside me, and I heard the people inside, four or five college students, drunker than I by far, screaming and hooting as they tried to pass me.

Tried. Their rear bumper hit the front of my car, sending me veering off of the road and into the ditch.

Before that, I looked to my right, and saw Her. The girl from the bar. She was smiling, something inhuman and ancient in her brown eyes and hair. Even in her ordinary features there was something eldritch and ancient that brought out a primal fear. A fear of death.

I was thrown from the car, and blacked out.

I woke up in the black and cold, with a splitting pain above my right eye, but otherwise intact and whole. I looked around and saw my car, aflame, broken and ripped apart by the collision. The college students, it seemed, had left without attempting a rescue.

Lit by the flames of my now-nonfunctional vehicle, I looked around. I expected to see nothing, but there was not. On the ground, not fifteen feet away, was the girl. She was lying on the ground, breathless, motionless and unstirring. Crouched above her was a strange girl, blonde-haired, not older than nineteen, dressed in simple clothing – jeans and a t-shirt – and carrying a weapon of some kind. It looked like a short sword, but the blade was thin and linear, not unlike a sharpened rapier blade but shorter still. Its hilt had a hand guard fashioned in the imagery of an Ouraboros, except with outstretched wings, set in gold but the blade of some black material I could not identify.

I stumbled forward, still disconcerted from the blast. “Who…?”

The girl looked up at me, and her eyes reminded me strangely of the girl who had been in the car with me; not in actual appearance, for this one’s eyes were an unearthly pale blue, but rather they evoked the same primal fears – the same fear of death.

This girl was dangerous.

She sheathed her strange sword in a leather hilt at her belt, and raised her right hand, and shouted, “Khairete!”

I shook my head, not understanding, wondering if maybe I had a concussion.

“Willechomen aband?”

I shook my head again, wondering if maybe I was having a stroke and this would be the end of it.

“Avete!” At this she waved her hand as if miming a greeting.

I stared blankly this time.

“Dia dhuit!”

I continued to stare.

She slapped her forehead and said, “Ego eimai Angelos.”

At my lack of a response she continued, “Ich bin Angelos?”

Rapid-fire she continued to spout in what I could only guess was a multitude of languages until she stumbled upon one I recognized, English. “Hel…lo?”

I nodded at this, encouraging her to continue, “I am Angelos.”

She spoke with a thick accent, something between Greek and German. “You should not be alive. You-“ at this she pointed at me, and paused. “You were supposed to die.”

I felt a little faint, and saw shadows dancing at the corners of my eyes as if my vision was being devoured by something. As I began to swoon, she ran up, but it was inhumanly fast, as if she had less ran to me and more flitted to my side. She waved a hand over my face and I felt a warmth, as if my body face were bathed in sunlight. The cold around me seemed to bite less, in that moment, and I felt awake again.

“Try… to stand,” she said hesitantly, helping me again to my feet. I tried to get to my feet and, nearly fell again, slipping into the snow. She put my right arm over her shoulder and helped me to my feet. As we walked along the snow, I began to ask questions. “What do you mean I was supposed to die? Who was that girl? Who are you? Why was she in my car? Why are you here? Are you… going to kill me?”

She gritted her teeth at my questions, but answered them all the same, “I mean you were fated to die tonight. In that crash. My handmaiden,” she gestured behind us at the crash, “was supposed to take your soul to my kingdom, and you would have been given judgement and sent to your proper afterlife. She has accompanied you, intangible and invisible, for most of this evening. I’m here because it seems she became the victim of fate tonight – her cord cut in place of your own. But you cannot stay here. For you are no longer fated to die.”

“So I’m not in any danger?”

She laughed, a harsh bark befitting an animal moreso than a human. “Not from me, paidi. But the elements, it seems, may have different plans.”

“So where are you taking me?”

She chuckled a little at this, and seemed a little more human in turn. “To my realm, Katachthon. Deep in the bowels of the underworld. It seems we have a vacancy that you could fill in the place of Tilphousia back there.”

I stumbled a little. This was all so much to believe, but what else could I do? Magic seemed the only explanation at this point; the girl appearing in my car, predicting my death. This girl, healing my wounds. I noticed, after a bit, that we were walking into the woods, away from the highway. We made our way to a clearing, and she stopped.

“Tóso kaló óso opoiodípote. This place seems as good as any. Hold to me tightly; this will be a little… disconcerting.”

In a second, it seemed, we were travelling at the speed of light, shadows dancing, laughter – raucous and unearthly, inhuman – and we arrived, on the balcony of a castle overlooking a darkened lake, within a massive cavern. I let go of her, and collapsed, and saw no more.

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You’re driving a long, dark stretch of highway, when Death appears in the passenger seat, informing you that you are about to die. The car then spins out of control, flipping, and you black out. You wake up, hours later, in a deserted field. Death is laying lifeless on the side of the highway.

to add on to my post from earlier, i lost an uncle and a cousin to a drunk driver. i didnt know the man was intoxicated until today when the police informed us. all i can think about is how my uncle and cousin were watching over me and protected my friends and I during this event. please stay safe and aware of who you enter a car with.

hey guys, i normally wouldnt post anything like this online but since nobody knows who i am, i thought id share this

last night i was out w my friends and her dad came to drive us to a diner, however he was recklessly driving and crashed the car and we almost flipped. he then drove away from the scene, leavjng all of us, including his daughter without an apology. he has made zero attempt since then to reach out to anyone and apologize. everyone is alive and okay, but five of us suffered injury, including myself. i couldnt move my jaw yesterday and the doctors thought it was broken but luckily its not. when the police came to his house, they found him in intoxicated, but claimed he only drank after he got home

its my belief that theres no way a sober person would have driven in the manner in which he did. im deeply disturbed by the events that took place and wanted to send the message out that you should never EVER under any circumstances get into a car with someone who might be intoxicated. we very lucky no one died because the crash. please know who is driving you around and please stay safe ❤️

please reblog this and get the message out there!!!

update on this I did teach a person how to drive stick exactly one (1) time and then I proceeded to wreck the car on the freeway

current mood im experiencing