just a story...

The area was packed with little kids; playing loudly on the swing set, climbing on the monkey bars and spinning constantly on the roundabout. They were everywhere, screaming happily as their devoted mothers watched over them protectively; like a lioness watching over her cubs. Everyone was occupied, they all had something to do, someplace to be. All except for one little girl who sat alone in the corner. Dressed in a bright pink top and denim shorts, the four year old pulled back her long, curly blonde hair- showing her red, unhappy face. Her deep blue eyes reddened as warm tears slowly trickled down her pale face, revealing her misery. Clutching onto her small, treasured Hannah Montana doll, she searched around the small park. Though all she could see at the time was a vast expanse of grassy fields, and a crowded street. She knew she wouldn’t find her mother.

      The tall woman was seemingly wealthy and very self absorbed. She was walking out of a designer shop, where she had just bought a real Dalmatian fur coat for a ridiculously inconsiderable price- displaying no concern whatsoever for the poor, unfortunate Dalmatian that had been murdered just for her fashion taste. The flamboyant coat- boldly printed with the designer label- was absolutely covered in black spots, desperately begging for attention. She was wearing some dark Versace sunglasses, which cost more than an iPod touch. Hanging from her wrist was a small, brown Chanel handbag which flawlessly matched her prominent, dark brown slip on high heels...and her ego; gracing her long, thin neck was a striking sterling silver necklace. She was a narcissistic, big-headed Barbie doll.                                                                                                                                                         

     Swollen with pride, the arrogant, egocentric woman walked boastfully to her deep purple convertible which was parked nearby on the crowded road.

     Five past four. The little girl had been waiting for her mother for the past thirty five minutes. She was getting nervous. Then suddenly, out of the blue, the girl noticed a woman waving at her in the distance. She had stopped crying. She looked closely, squinting in the glint of the sunlight. The woman had a shopping bag in one hand. Her face was round, and her deep blue eyes glimmered with her milky complexion. Her long, wavy blonde hair glinted as she gave her daughter a consoling smile. She was just across the road from the park, which was now less crowded.

“SOPHIE!”, she shouted, her voice loud but compassionate. She was well aware of her lateness.

     The purple convertible speedily ran down the busy road, lined with designer shops and business places on each side; it rushed through the amber traffic lights, and darted along just before the lights flashed back to red- its engine roaring fiercely for the attention of passing pedestrians. Veering past a luminescent yellow minibus full to capacity with old folks on their way back to the local home; the gasps and screams from the seniors were almost loud enough to drown out the screech of the tyres of the minibus, as the irritated driver hit the brake pedals immediately.

     Despite perceiving what had just happened before her eyes, the prestigious woman still made no attempt to bring the purple convertible to a halt. Clearly oblivious to the fact that a pink figure was becoming more and more visible with each turn of her wheels.

     Darting down the crowded street impulsively, like a horse racing towards the finish line, the petite blonde four-year-old ran happily towards her mother. With her doll in her hand, and her soft, curly hair swept back by the wind; she proceeded towards the busy road, her eyes locked firmly on her mother.

     Her mother slowly walked towards her, arms wide open, ready for a hug. But the sun, which had momentarily gone down, came back up again. The blinding rays stung her eyes- causing her concentration to be diverted to searching for her chic, dark brown sunglasses. She stopped shortly. Then, she dived her hands deep into her gigantic black handbag dangling from her high shoulder.

     The girl kept running, noticeably ignorant to her surroundings.  All her attention was still concentrated on her mother, rather than where her tiny, impulsive legs were taking her. She was unaware that she was crossing the road.

     The purple convertible advanced faster and faster. The elegant woman took a huge gasp as she slammed her brake pedals; causing the tyres to screech for a halt, but they weren’t able to grasp hold of enough tar to cease movement. The overpowering smell of burnt rubber could be noticed almost instantaneously, like a blow to the gut.

Physical contact had been made.

     The headlights and her head harshly collided; within a short, momentary second, both individuals were covered in splatters of blood. With her mouth wide open in disbelief, the girl’s mother screamed in complete shock and utter devastation as her bag fell to the ground with a thump. Tears of blood immediately streamed down her red face as she ran frantically towards her daughter.

     Following this one, brief second of concision, a cornucopia of noise, shock and pain engulfed the air. The collision threw the lifeless, frail body of the four-year-old girl about five metres in front of the damaged vehicle, landing with a loud THUD as it hit the solid, hard, tar-covered ground.

Both the car and the girl were motionless.