As darkness engulfs the valley, his car roars down the flat, completely straight road toward the small log cabin. The muscle car's engine drowns out the silence of the cold, motionless Christmas Eve night. The snow, which had been falling all day, had subsided hours earlier.The full moon, which is so bright, almost makes the head lights on his car obsolete. The light from the moon reflecting off of the white layers of snow, snow that seemed to have a permanent residence on the mountains that were on either side of him, almost guide the car toward his destination. The sounds of the old car get louder as he stomps the gas pedal, in order to show up on time.He promised that he would be there on Christmas Eve, and he would be.
Just as the long drive starts to become tedious, the road begins to take him up a small embankment, which has a stop sign at its peak. The car slows down to a complete stop at the law enforcing sign, and for a moment, doesn't move. From this perch, he can see the longed for cabin a mile away.
This image, this holiday, summaries what brings him joy and pure, unadulterated happiness. As he drives toward the cabin, he imagines his young kids falling fast asleep in order to prepare for the bearded present deliverer. He can almost see his wife staying up and reading a novel, waiting patiently for his arrive. These thoughts make him speed in order to get to the cabin, because, he truly cannot wait to see her. he can't wait to put the presents under the tree. The closer he gets, the better he can see the lighted evergreen tree in the living room with the fire place, full of wood and flames, raging in the background. This sight makes him feel warm inside, just as the fire, and without him knowing it, plasters a kid-like smile on his face.
All of a sudden, his front left tire hits a sizable nail and explodes. He tries his best to control the wide body of a car while on slick roads but he simply was going too fast. The car begins to flip as he hangs onto the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from the intense grip. The car flips four and a half times and comes to rest upside down. The smell of gas reeks in the freezing cold, late December air. He tries to lift himself but he finds out, rather quickly, that both of his arms are broken. His shirt is now getting super saturated with gasoline and he know he probably only has a little bit of time. He looks up at the cabin window in desperation and feels like he is just feet away but actually, him and his car are more than a football field in length from the cottage. He stares at his wife, but she has no idea about the situation. If he yells, he might get her attention, but that gives the possibility that she might run out too late and have front row seats for his fiery death. He knows he can't let that happen. He would rather her remember him as she does now, not as a piece of charred meat.
Now, instead of darkness, flames engulf the valley. Although the pain is intense, he clenches his teeth and never screams. His eyes, never taken off of the fogged up window of the cabin. His last view of everything that he loves, melts away as the wind begins to blow away ashes.
