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Cultural Connections: Douglas Anderson School of the Arts Part 2

Nov

02

As part of a community partnership, the Museum will be hosting students from the Douglas Anderson School of the Arts for their Senior’s Creative Writing: Reading Night, 4 times this year.  As a port of the partnership, we would like to share some of the student’s work with the community.

Written by Morgan Walker, Student at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts

It’s basic physics: head hits glass, glass breaks into a shower and I’m left to face the impact. This windshield was tough enough to withstand my brother’s record pitch, just not the tenuous bone of my skull. The glass splinters then fractures completely, but it is beautiful. Everything I knew about broken glass before is gone because in these three seconds, it was the last thing I saw. Always, in what-if situations, I thought my life would flash before my eyes, but I wasn’t afforded that luxury, only broken glass against the atmosphere of a rainy day. There wasn’t any pain, or maybe there was so much it converted into a dull sensation I couldn’t feel yet, except for the eminent darkness rapidly approaching with earth.
I came to the intersection and should’ve waited a second or more, in driver’s ed they tell you to wait three seconds, well, I waited two. What followed will always remain basic physics.
When she slid across the blacktop between the intersection, to the sound of dragging tarpaulins, I couldn’t move. You know, like in those movies when someone is dying and they need to pass peacefully. Was I supposed to caress her head and tell that young girl it was all happening for a reason?
Being a cattle farmer prepares you for death. That week I was working on my fence and hadn’t been gone but an hour, when I saw my horse slowly making his way through the fence. I ran out there, my bum knee locking up with every step. He was already in the road before I could reach for him and then there she was.
So when the blood was spurting from her mouth and the skin on her arms had been rolled back, how was she going to believe me when I told her this was all going to be okay?

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