This is especially written for the Weekly Challenge… Maybe. I don’t know if this would count, but hey! Whatever, right? As long as I had fun.
I was on my way to school in a motor cab this afternoon when there was a fuel truck ahead of us. It was albeit small in size and had that cylindrical container on its back that had a metallic sleek shine to it.Written on the back said in red printed letters was DON’T SMOKE WITHIN 50 FEET, beside it was a picture of a smoking cigarette in a circle with a diagonal line over it in the same red color as the words. At the bottom of the truck was FLAMMABLE in bold letters.
I internally snorted. Yeah right, as if there won’t be anyone smoking within that 50 feet. What would have happened if there was, then? Would the truck have exploded?
There was a flash of an image inside my head. Big white flashing explosion. Then there was an image of a girl whose face was wrapped with… bandage? Or is that a scarf? I’m not sure but it was a piece of white cloth. She had a pair shades on so I couldn’t really see her features.
But her skin was red, and literally burnt. There were a lot of angry large scars on her arms. Everywhere on her body. There was an angry red scar peeking through the bandages on her face.
Her face… I wondered. Oh my, I can’t even imagine her face, I said to myself. Then I imagined the horror if that would happen to me, all the while staring at the back of that truck.
Was it possible to survive an explosion? Would I be lucky enough? Or maybe unlucky enough?
I’d have to deal with the scars I’ll get for the rest of my life. People would look at me, revolt and gape at me, like some freak show, I imagined. Surgery and operations might cost my life if I would undergo through it.
But dying would have been an easier choice wouldn’t it? a voice said in my mind. By the time surgery operations are offered to you, you would have preferred to kill yourself anyway.
I looked at the faces of different people, different passengers all sitting through the traffic. I wondered how they would react to me if I did have hideous scars everywhere. I imagined them all staring at me. Some expressions disgusted, some horrified, some even amazed. I would never live through all the attention I’ll gain. I would be forced to stay indoors and never see the light again.
My heart felt heavy at the thought.
I stared at the back of the truck.
Yes, but I would have told myself there was a reason why I survived the incident, a positive side of me spoke. Why would you waste a second chance that was given to you? Don’t kill yourself just because of vanity. Think of it this way: There’s a more likely chance the people you will encounter and that will love you will be the ones you can trust the most, the voice convinced.
I continued to stare at the truck. What an optimistic thought, I said to myself. It’ll be hard to convince myself to think that way.
But I guess, it’s true. God would have to have a plan if He would let me live through a freak accident, right?
Note: I mulled over at the possibility of it all, but in all honesty, I would prefer for it stay as a thought and not a reality.
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