Reaper’s New Bell
“I’ve got loyalty inside my DNA!” The familiar echo of Kendrick’s voice floats throughout the small car.You greet his catchy vocals with a small sigh and smile of your own.Just two days ago you were stuck riding shotgun with your parents.That’s assuming you weren’t forced to partake in the awful babysat driving.Finally, you sigh in relief, I’m a licensed and free driver.The Kendrick song seems to bore the atmosphere and you finally decide to do something about it.Let’s try some Travis Scott, maybe?Or what about some Mig-woah,what? You slam the brakes as your eyes catch a glimpse of red ahead.It’s the car in front of you making right turn.That was close, a hint of anxiety shows shoots through your fingers.You clench the steering wheel a bit tighter as you pass an overhead billboard.It’s not the little brake-check that’s unnerved you, it’s the billboard. “The number one killer of teens is motor vehicle crashes,”you swallow the words as you pass by the giant advertisement. It’ll be okay, you reassure yourself, I’m a good driver.You pat the brakes gently as you see the familiar colors of a state trooper.You check the speedometer and smile as you realize you’re now going the limit.Almost there.Your music cuts off as you groan and realize what has happened.Your best friend has found out about your “mission”.Who knew buying birthday gifts at the mall would be so hard, right?BUZZ-BUZZ.Alright, alright, you finally succumb to you curiosity, what do they want?You reach for the grey iPhone, but you fingers don’t touch.The only contact that is made is a blunt kiss between you and the steering wheel.The airbag shoots out, just barely managing to brace your whiplash.You lift your head from the white mass of air that is now quickly deflating.You feel silly;it’s the same as when you were drugged for you wisdom teeth surgery. You step outside of you car, confused and disoriented.How bad-oh my God…That’s when the pieces click and the adrenaline rush sobers your concussion.The car in front of you is rolled over.The small sedan is now an aluminum car with debris and crimson fluid.You can hear the faint siren of first responders approaching.You slump to the asphalt and feel some tears fall down your face.You feel small pulses under your palms.You raise them to your face and see the hands of a murderer.They’re soaked in your own blood by sharp pebbles and windshield shrapnel.You hear a faint sound through the chaos of it all.There, in your driver’s seat lies, the reaper’s new call.Something as familiar as a brother’s voice and small as a sister’s hand, it is your phone beckoning once again. Where did this go so wrong?From normal, boring teenage evening to a bloody collision that possibly results in innocent lives lost.The fate was sealed once the text was ever sent.Guys, the whole Edgar Allen Poe scene aside;don’t text and rive, please.The effects of such and immature, little issue can be catastrophic for everyone.Let’s look at the facts, 75% of teens have admitted to texting and driving.That’s A LOT of teens.Hopefully this little piece changed your mind (or at least entertained you) on this subject.Don’t be put at risk for a crash because of some text, and remember not to heed the reaper’s call!