First story I've put on this site...let's see how this goes...

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“It wasn’t that late, but it was dark.”

The deep hours ticked by.

All sunlight had faded away, except for the faintest possible glow, but the moon had not quite risen above the large hills that ringed the horizon. The ink-black bowl above was not even pierced by starlight, cloud cover masking their twinkling faces.

“The road was really twisty and narrow, but there was no ice or anything.”

Rural civilization unrolled across the landscape, rickety fences squaring away geometric paddocks, occasionally interrupted by palatial farmhouses and swathes of forest. The road wound through it all, uphill and downhill, as did the canyoned river, a shadowed dip in the land, wearing itself ever deeper.

“Sometimes it rained, but the car was warm. The wind kept pushing on us.”

A twin set of warm yellow lights wandered through the night, flashing briefly over tree, bush, and wire boundary, wending back and forth along the road. Rain pattered down in intermittent, heavy gushes, and the wind blew harshly. But the occupant were safe in their metal shell, heater on high.

“There were hardly any other cars. We went a little fast, maybe 60? Except on the bends, of course.”

The car was small, a two-seater. One passenger, one driver. Details and colour could not be discerned, except for the yellow-cast headlights on high beam. Rarely, a reflection would come along, going in the opposite direction. The beams would dip in an unacknowledged greeting, and then brighten.

There was very little other light, and very little sound.

“I think it’s easy to forget that you’re not the only one on the road, to stray over the lines.”

Harsh blue LEDs, coming towards them, lingering over faded white lines, too close for comfort. They were seen in time and avoided, but still breath came short, hearts pounding a little. The driver cursed stupidity, and the passenger clasped a hand over the one on the gearstick, just for a second. A smile in the light of the dashboard instruments, humouring the driver’s irritation.

“It…” Deep breath. Emotion made the air clog. “…It was just a normal drive. To visit the parents.” Water pooled in already red eyes.

“You don’t really think that something like that can go so wrong.”

The road looped upwards through dense forest. The GPS, a piercing glow next to the steering wheel, indicated a tight series of hairpin turns that curled up the hill loomed in front of them. The driver pressed on the brake like there was an egg under it, slowing a bit. The other occupant thought a touch more on the brake might be prudent, but brushed it off, because the passenger trusted the driver completely.

Fingers twisted together restlessly. “I felt so safe.”

The full moon, bloated against the sky, showed half its pitted face above the undulating, high horizon, glowing in its revelation. They came down the hill, and went up another, this one with only a slight blind bend. Gnarly trees leaned over the tarmac. Passenger and driver focussed ahead, waiting for home. One laughed at something the other said.

“He didn’t dip his lights.”

Yellow glowed. The driver moved away from the white centre. Blindingly bright lights flashed, high beam bright. The passenger flinched.

“Definitely didn’t see us.”

A four-wheel drive, taking up both sides of the narrow road.

“Couldn’t stop…”

No time or space to avoid collision.

No time to scream.

Do it anyway.

“And then…”

Screeching damage broke the night’s careful silence. Smoke tainted the cold air. Wood groaned under sudden pressure.

Three sets of eyes fluttered dazedly.

Two hands reached and dialed.

One soul flew freely in the dark.

“ I was unconscious for a minute, but then I woke up, and grabbed the phone, and looked over, and…and…” Saltwater tracked downwards.

“Hey.” Another voice, slightly more mature. Another pair of hands, one gauze-wrapped. “Don’t cry. I’m here, you’re here, it’ll be fine.”

Sniff, “…I’m sorry.” The former passenger, current concerned lover, leans forward into waiting arms. “I know it will be. I just…I thought you were dead.”

The former driver, current patient, pats the gently shaking frame, letting the other get it all out, this rare breakdown. “It’s annoying. All I remember is your parents seeing us off in the driveway. I don’t recall the drive at all.” A heavy pause. “What happened to the other guy?”

Tissue paper is good at soaking up emotional messes. “He didn’t make it. We spun around and ended up it a ditch, but he hit this tree side-on, really hard.”

They both stare down at the purely white hospital sheets, each to their own saddened thoughts.

The uncomfortable bedside chair creaks. “I’m glad you don’t remember the crash. It was…” Terrifying.

“Cheer up. We’re alive.” One finger is raised in practicality. “But next time we go to your house, we’ll take the state highway. It’s straighter. And wider.”

Sniff, sniff. “Okay.”