That Faithful Night
Ian's cell phone rang. He slipped it out of his pocket and slid his finger across the screen to answer, "It's time came," came the male's voice over the phone, "Ok, I'll get there as soon as I can," Ian replied.
Ian hung up, grabbed the forgotten bag from the couch, and dashed out of the house. As Ian ran along the sidewalk toward his car, he stumbled over the water hose that he had left there from earlier that day, "darn, I knew I should have put that away."
As he rushed to his sports car, Ian fumbled with the keys as he tried to find the correct one in the dark, "I've got to hurry," he mumbled as he unlocked the car and started it up.
Ian pulled out of the driveway, nearly running over the mailbox. His rear tire almost fell into the ditch next to the mailbox. He turned the car onto the road and sped toward the right. He drove quite recklessly, narrowly missing cars as he drove. Soon, it began to rain.
"I've got to get there in time," he said to himself.
Ian swerved around a bright yellow mini-van, almost hitting as he referred to it "some punk in a horrid purple Corvette."
From the distance, Ian could hear sirens wailing, "great, the police are after me," he moaned, "I can't worry about it now, Amy's more important."
As the sirens got closer, Ian's increased the car's speed. He was constantly swerving, braking, and sliding all over both sides of the slick road. He looked in the review mirror and saw the police cars coming in the distance. Once again, he pushed harder on the gas pedal, and the car accelerated.
Ian was just a few minutes from the hospital. He was starting to be relived. He would be there with Amy. Everything was going to be ok. Then he saw the lights. There were two large, bright headlights coming straight toward him. They looked like two brightly illuminated moons moving toward him from within the darkness.
The crash was inevitable. Ian's little car was crushed upon impact with the garbage truck. Ian was thrown forward. In his rush to leave, he had neglected to fasten his seatbelt. He flew out the front window. Behind him, the car burst into flames. Ian would not walk away from this explosion.
Outside the battered mess that used to be his car lay the crumpled body. He had a broken neck, a punctured lung, internal bleeding, and multiple other injuries. The body was lying bloody, limp, and broken. The medics were soon there, but not in time. This injury was fatal. Now Ian would never be able to see his new son, hear his voice, or feel the baby's grasp on his finger. It was all because he had forgotten to pick up the baby's diaper bag. The new baby would never meet his dad.
A/N- Well everyone, I hope you enjoyed this. This is a turn from my normally more humorous writing. Don't worry, though, this is not an end to my humor. I have another entertaining one-shot about Natalie coming soon. And right now, a review would be nice.
