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Short Story Final Draft
Short Story Final Draft
Twenty-four hours a
day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. I drive day in and day out.
Luckily I get paid when I need to rest my eyes a bit. I’m alone most days, driving to places
I’ve never been before. Sometimes I’m with my navigator, Mark. He’s eerily similar to me in
most ways, he just happens to be a boy. A girl and a boy alone together in a car for hours, and
happen to be a lot alike? That would seem like the recipe for a spark; or a little love interest in
my story of life. It’s not. We barely talk. Correction, I never talk to him. People bore me no
matter what they’re doing. Today is August 23rd. Mark and I are driving down a road I frankly
forgot the name of, carrying random cargo, and listening to soft sounds of deafening crickets at
night. Mark is on his phone, but not on any sort of GPS. I glance over at what he's doing and
then suddenly I've realized I've hit something. The van tumbles on top of whatever I hit; seeming
almost purposely that the thing hit every tire and made the car violently quake. The van
screeches to a halt. I had the instinct to keep on driving. I mean time is money, right? I put my
foot back on the gas, but then Mark stupidly runs out of the van to see if the thing is okay. It was
probably a deer, but I now I guess I had to wait. There was no chance a deer could possibly
damage this industrial purposed van, and there was no remorse either. It wasn't like it was some
old guy… As it turns out, what we hit was in fact human. He didn't have an ID on him, but he
was as old as ever. It's probably best if we hit him. Now he doesn't have to walk the rest of the
way home. The dude's dead. Out. There was no way of bringing him back. His limbs contorted in
strange ways, and his oddly nice suit was covered in gravel and rubber tire marks. Looked like
some kind of business man. I don't know why he'd be out here "What do we do?" Said the
annoying gremlin I had to sit next to for hours. "What do you think? We leave. We obviously hit
the poor man. There's no way to not be guilty… unless we leave, so let's go. We're wasting time.
Money". "You're insane if you think I'm going to leave him lying here". I now start shouting,
"HE'S DEAD. D-E-A-D. NO COMING BACK. If someone finds out, by us staying here so long,
then we're dead". I got in the driver's seat and planted myself in the seat. I sit there for a solid
minute before Mark still hasn't come back, and I put the vehicle into drive. I guess he was the
lights come on and thought he'd be left, so he quickly ran up to the passenger door. He gave me a
look. A look that meant that regretted everything he's ever done. He stepped in, sat down, and
faced forward. "You have to be my navigator," I chuckled. We drive way down to one of those
truck stops on the side of the road for whatever state we're in. I stop by to use the restroom. In
the corner of the lobby room, there is a breaking news report of the man we ran over. The
governor of Virginia. It's now showing camera footage of Mark examining the body. Someone
was recording him while I was in the car waiting for him. Perhaps a midnight love affair? Either
way, Mark's face was broadcasted to the world. I went back into the bathroom at the sound of
sirens. The police were now at the truck stop looking for Mark. They never knew that I was
involved. So they never went after me. I stayed in the bathroom for around 2 hours before
making my way out and walking on the road. "So, a little problem with your cargo…".