Sitting by the city bus window, Jade gave his prosthetic hand a troubled look; his mother was seated by his side holding his left hand in hers. She tried to comfort Jade, and on any account, she has been so supportive for the last two months since Jade lost his dominant, right arm. As his eyes looming outside the rain-spattered window, his mind raced to April 10. The day seemed like a legend to him; he reminisced the day as articulately as he could. This wasn’t a story of the cabin or near any of that kind; he never believed in ghosts, spirits and demons, but now he did.

Missing people’s magazine pages couldn’t answer him on where he could find his Jean. He thought Jean had died, but her body was never retrieved from the scene. He had met Jean about a year ago; Jean was a transfer student to the college, and from the first sight his heart could tell there was something about this girl that made her special, one thing led to another and fate once more united this great couple. It wasn’t a fairy tale; Jean and Jade were meant to be, they fitted into each other as a jigsaw puzzle. A year into the relationship, and Easter was around the corner; Jade asked Jean to spend Easter with his family at his hometown, 300 miles from the college. They planned their journey but ended up starting a bit late.

 It was half-past midnight; the night was awful quiet and darker compared to other nights, the road was deserted, and they were the only travellers on the road, 100 miles to go, Jade set the car at the 90miles per hour mark as they zoomed past the large endless tracts of forests. He had a lot in mind at the time, but he was sure he had seen a woman in a white gown in the middle of the road. His heart was thumbing vigorously as he tried to bring the car to a halt, one look at Jean’s raced his mind; he had never seen her so scared as such before, he swerved the car off the road and before he knew it the car spinning down the terrain.

Jade saw both their lives flash before his eyes, and he never had time to say bye as he thought then. He felt a sharp pain through his abdomen, and the next thing he knew was that he was outside the car on the ground and through a soft gaze he could see Jean 10 meters away, blood tickled off Jean instead of rushing. Each drop of blood was tainting the pristine ground with the humour of one taken too soon. Her chest laid still, no flickers of life. On his account, he saw the warmth of life stolen by the cold embrace of death.

He laid helpless on the ground, in the cold air, his wounds were smoking. Blood was oozing out of the injuries; pain washed over him. The last horror of seeing was his hand and the piece of metal in between his flesh. The metal stayed where it was buried, and he never felt the pain, only the cold…

Photo credit: Vectorstock,com