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Saint Ray (of Fate) 's Short Stories
The wind was cold and sharp, telling me Dad was going to have another car crash. I just knew it and Iíd been in so many it wasnít more than a sudden jerk. Itís not that he was drunk, Mom made sure of that, itís just as if heís always somewhere else, somewhere painful, but he canít get out of it. We were going to New York, the big city, because Dadís business was making more money and decided to go to where anyone can make success, the Big Apple. So far, the countrywide ride hasnít been worth it. Weíd been robbed five times, kidnapped once, and had two car crashes. And Dad was about to make it a third. I watched as the needle went from 100 to 160 on the empty highway. His car used to be a race car so he could go faster. I sunk back into the hard padded seats and slipped into my seat beat. A silver Camry showed in the horizon and Dad had a face that told me he was in the painful place, completely unaware. This time, I wanted to see us crash. And it wasnít that amazing. The hit woke Dad up right as the other car flipped over and started to burn along with ours. Quickly, I slipped out my stolen phone and called the 911 I had on speed dial. They did respond fast. They found I had cuts and scars from the car door ripping apart and 2nd degree burns from the leather creating a live campfire inside and I was smack-dab in it. The ambulance came first which gave us time to repair the car, leave our info, and drive off as we always did. I loved being so horribly unlucky because of all the action. The pain, the leaving, the timed fixing, it seemed all natural to me now. The city outline soon came up and I thought of the schedule, of how it all had to change, that now I had to do things like go to public school, and do homework. Maybe thereíd be a forest like in California. ďSaint! Do you see that building? Thatís our apartment! Oh, I even see our balcony!Ē Nope, things would never be the same.
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