The sirens. I’d heard them many times before. As a child I used to wave to the passing ambulances, fire trucks and police cars. Completely unaware to where they were going and why. But now, they were coming for me. Here I lay. On the pavement, dying. I could hear the sirens wailing now. I had been in accident, I knew that much. It had happened so fast, it was all a blur. One minute I was driving down the highway. The next spinning out of control. Then a deafening bang, I’d hit something, I smelt smoke. Blind, I searched for the door handle. I felt dizzy due to lack of oxygen, the smoke filled my lungs. Adrenaline numbed any pain I felt. I pushed the door open and fell to the pavement and dragged myself away. Now, here I lay. Adrenaline now wearing off. A hot pain burned up my legs and one arm. I felt warmth pouring down my face. So here I lay on the pavement, on the highway. Blood leaving my body, it smelled metallic. I would die; I knew that, I understood that. I would let death take me. But now, during my last few breaths, all I hear is the sirens.
It's well written. I know what's going on, but I don't sense any purpose. Someone's injured and they hear sirens, and it ends.
It needs substance, but other than that, it's good.
It needs substance, but other than that, it's good.




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