Tabatha Deans

A HAUNTING EVENING…

A HAUNTING EVENING…

            It has been quite some time since I’ve been able to enjoy the luxury of sleeping with my windows open downtown. Temperatures have been high during the day, but lately the evenings have been wonderfully cool, so last night I blocked open all the windows and fell asleep to the rhythmic humming and clanking of the air conditioning unit on the roof of 7-11, across the alley from my apartment.

            I was yanked out of my peaceful slumber at 1 a.m., to the sound of screeching tires on pavement. I sat straight up in bed, adrenaline pulsing through my veins, and heard more screeching of tires braking, then the distinct sound of metal smashing into metal. That was followed by the horrific sound of a vehicle rolling over and over again, then the sound of light poles and metal being torn apart, followed by loud thunk which caused my building to shake. I looked out my window to see dozens of people running down the street toward the sound, and I knew immediately it was a horrible crash.

            Somewhere in the distance I heard the primal cry of a man, actually it was more of a wailing, and it grew closer as the man ran toward my building.

            “Kristiiiiiiii!” The scream sent shivers down my spine. I assume Kristi was in the accident. Or maybe she had been walking across the street and been hit, or maybe the cars wrecked trying to avoid her. I tried to put the scream out of my mind as I watched out the window as the street filled with concerned bystanders.

            Now I’ve seen a lot of traffic accidents when I was covering the news. But I always arrived after the fact. But last night, high above the crowd gathered in the alley way, the conversations and sounds wafting up through my window as they assessed the severity of the accident made my skin crawl.

            “Oh man, I hope nobody was in there.” “They’re dead. They’re dead for sure.” “Shit man, somebody’s dead.”

            I couldn’t get Kristi out of my mind. I felt a desperate need to find out if she was okay, so, irrationally, I threw on a sweater and my slippers and went outside. A car had indeed sheared off the corner of the building attached to mine, and I stood in the shadows of the flashing red and blue lights, waiting for someone to mention anything about Kristi. The police arrived and ambulances followed, but I kept my distance around the corner. I desperately wanted to know Kristi was okay, but at the same time had no desire to see that she was not. I watched for a few more minutes, and searched the crowd for the source of the wailing man, but never found him.

            I went back upstairs and tried hard to go back to sleep, but never really did. I couldn’t stop wondering about Kristi…

August 17, 2013 - Posted by Tabatha Stewart | Uncategorized | 17th street, accident, colorado, denver, love, romance