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My back hits the firm surface of the stretcher. I struggle to keep my eyes open to the aftermath. The air smells of blood. The pavement is bathed in broken glass and the flashing blue and red lights of emergency vehicles. “I want my mom.” My throat is dry and scratchy. A masculine voice responds. “I’m sorry. There’s no other room on the chopper.” They wheel me toward the helicopter waiting to take me to the hospital. I groan in protest.
Intermediate Creative Writing Assignment. Had to describe a brief moment of chaos following a certain sentence by sentence formula. Mine is about my car wreck that I had to be airlifted from in my Junior year of high school.
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July 7, 2007
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