23:30   24/11/2020

To my…

Today, I received a harsh wake up call. A lesson. An experience to teach me of some things that I should and shouldn’t do. I am definitely reassessing my values and actions now. Because folk were hurt. And I was involved.

Alrite. To unmask the dramatics, I wasn’t directly involved. But I was there to bare witness. To the event, what happened, what it resulted in. But more than that, I was able to foresee the further outcomes of this incident, and most importantly, what means could have prevented this occurrence.

So we’ll now say, ‘and all because my hate chose to be inconsiderate’. But I can change that fact.

A shame, what I saw. A damned pity. And a clear indication of the unnecessary chaos that I could cause. And all because I chose to be inconsiderate. I don’t want to say ‘I’. That means all of me is inconsiderate. And that is surely not true. All who know me know of the love I radiate to my surroundings. Maybe the better word instead of ‘I’ should be ‘my hate’. So we’ll now say, ‘and all because my hate chose to be inconsiderate’. But I can change that fact.

I saw folk get struck by a running carriage. Not just any simple carriage. An 8 trotter carriage at that. The impact of the collision was not soft by any means.

Felix gave me a ride home. We had just left the south-eastern speedway at Mansions Road to make our way to the capital. It was slow movement on Mansions Road as most folk here know. This slow ride gave us clear sight of the tragedy.

A black 8 trotter stormed out of the side street ahead. Common at these late hours. What was not common was seeing this huge carriage smash into two bystanders crossing the road. The carriage swept the two like they were empty barrels sitting in the way, smashed into the air before skidding across the pavement.

It didn’t alarm us at first, what me and Felix saw. Until we quickly realized that what this carriage had struck were not barrels, but bodies. Those were bodies that flew through the air! Felix was shocked. I grew alert. I had to do something!

I jumped out of our carriage and told Felix to call for help. I ran right to the crash victims. An old man and an old woman. Humans. Conscious, but clearly in a state of shock. They were both alive and breathing, thank the Father above. But they were surely injured. Just a simple trip or a fall was already bad news for such folk. But being smashed across the road by such a heavily hooved carriage was truly devastating. I had to make sure they were okay.

Luckily the other civilians around quickly realized what had just happened and also called for help. I assessed these elderly of their state of consciousness. They knew their names, what day it was, what had just happened, and could direct their eyes toward me. They were still with me. We had to ensure they didn’t move until the medics arrived, to eliminate the chances of further injury. That’s when the owner of the 8 trotter crawled out.

I had nothing to say to him. He was not my concern. There was an old woman before me, splayed across the road, bleeding and stunned. The excuses of a drunkard was the least important matter at that moment.

As I was attending the old woman, the carriage owner tried to explain himself. He said “I didn’t see them. They came out of nowhere.” I had nothing to say to him. He was not my concern. There was an old woman before me, splayed across the road, bleeding and stunned. The excuses of a drunkard was the least important matter at that moment. And yes, he admitted to being drunk. As I stayed by the old woman, the carriage owner continued to explain himself to me. Spite and Rage were tapping me on the shoulder, but I ignored their calls. Instead, I knew I had to keep things calm. I told this drunkard to just give these victims some space and to rant elsewhere. I’m glad he complied. He better have.

A bystander came by and stated he was a doctor. It sounded trust worthy. He had a brief look at her. Then he said it best she not move until the medics arrived, because she could have had a broken hip, a broken spine, a broken rib. He said all of that. Out loud. No consideration to any possible panic. Fool. Then he walked away like he just made the best assessment of his lifetime. All I saw and heard was a spineless clown. This doctor. Was he even a physician? He was clearly not in touch with folk. He was likely not even calm at that moment, and just wanted to somehow prove he was important. The last thing he should have done was point out what was wrong with the old woman. All he was doing was freaking her out. As this useless fool walked off, I told the old woman that she going to be fine, that she was doing well. And I gave her hopeful eyes, in case she couldn’t stay strong.

I’ve had much training in providing basic aid. And in this case, I knew best to ensure the victim didn’t move until the medics had arrived. She was on her side, luckily. But the old woman, she was in so much discomfort. She so desperately wanted to move. First of all, to alleviate the discomfort in her chest. Likely broken ribs or a possible rupture of sorts. But also because her main concern was actually the well being of her husband.

But what good were the words of a stranger? A true lover would need to see their loved one with their very own eyes to find any true solace.

She so very much wanted to see if he was okay. Felix was attending to him, and so I knew he was still live and conscious. But what good were the words of a stranger? A true lover would need to see their loved ones with their very own eyes to find any true solace.

This part was difficult for me. She was crying for me to help her roll over, so that she could ease some of her discomfort. But I didn’t want to take any chances. Moving her could have easily brought more unforeseen consequences. It was surely better to leave that decision to a medical professional. Lest I be liable for further injuries, or even result in her passing. But the way she cried and begged to just move… It was hard to reject. Poor woman. I just saw her get smashed through the air. Saw her fragility in her age. Saw her laying on the road. A place no one should be. I was so close to just giving in to what she wanted, every time she cried out. And where were these damned medics?

What was more difficult was that she kept asking about her husband. It was the sweetest act of love I’d seen in so many centuries. No. ‘Act’ is the wrong word. Her concern was no act of love. It was clearly her honest behaviour. As if he was always her main concern. Here she was, lying on the road, in sheer pain, with obvious broken bones, and yet her concern was her husband. What sort of sane individual would not want to help this woman check on her husband. It was almost a dying wish. You could feel the genuine concern. She’d be distraught in pain the first moment, then suddenly you could see a thought cross her mind, and from then on her only worry was the wellbeing of her husband. I couldn’t be sane and sit there with her. I had to ascend my feelings and be a wise man. Cold, but wise nonetheless. And still she cried out. I held her hand. She needed to know that she wasn’t going to be left alone. I wasn’t sure if I succeeded, but I knew my touch had brought comfort to many others in the past. Why had only the Town Hogs arrived? What of the medics?

It was clear. These two darlings deserved each other. To think of the other at the moment of their own peril. Only the truest of hearts could understand that.

Felix and I checked on each other briefly, to see that state of each other’s subject. And what we both discovered melted our hearts deeply. As the woman was seeking her husband over her own pain, he too was seeking her, regardless of all his injuries. Their only concerns were each other. How badly I wanted to move those two to each other, you’ll never know. It was clear. These two darlings deserved each other. To think of the other at the moment of their own peril. Only the truest of hearts could understand that. I’m sure their concern in itself was the reason these two were still alive. Still strong. Still there to give the other hope. Give the other life.

These sorts of hearts are foreign in this day and age. I see how the lambs nowadays treat each other. Like products for their own entertainment. On to the next one once they’re bored with their current play thing. I never understood that. I could never be that way. I always knew my heart was true. The devoted type of heart, only blessed to those who earn it. And what I saw in the old man and woman was all too familiar. Devoted hearts. Only concerned about the other.

I’ve never been fond of talking to the Town Hogs, but my heart knew I had to. Felix and I were likely the only witnesses to the incident who had the nerve to stay and help. Of course we aided the hogs with the investigation. The damned medics took too damn long to finally show up. We had to help as much as we could. Does that make me a snitch? Nothing I said would have jeopardized the underworlds. This was for the sake of livingkind.

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The true impact of this issue was a matter of values. For me, personally. I needed to see this tragedy. In all honesty, I had been asking for such. Fortunately, and unfortunately, the experience I’d been wishing for didn’t happen directly to me. I hope those two lovelies are well.

Nowadays, I’ve been finding my morals and values in complete chaos. Many of my views on honour are hard and fast. Yet, my other views on life are too carefree. Way too carefree. Almost dangerously carefree. No. I am dangerously carefree. As long as it doesn’t involve my heart.

Not for the sake of speeding, but for the sake of flow.

Nowadays, I always ask my carriage driver to take me everywhere as fast as possible. No matter how dangerous that request may be. When my carriage hits the road, I want it rolling fast. And not because I’m ever in a rush. Those who know me well know that rushing is the last thing I do. No. This speed. I want it. Because it feels wonderful. The flow of the carriage doesn’t feel natural if its velocity is always capped by some legal speed limit. Nor does it feel natural if it’s bound to drive within these painted lines. True drive lines span way wider than these damned narrow lanes. What intrusions they are to the speed of flow. And that’s why, for me, especially on the speedways, the carriage can never run restricted. The ride needs to be unrestrictive, yet sensible. Not for the sake of speeding, but for the sake of flow.

But I will admit. There are other shades of beauty I enjoy about the carriage rolling fast. The philosophy of being free is one. But what’s even more enticing is the smell of death. It lingers closer the faster the carriage flows. And maybe I like that. Maybe I sometimes want to make a mistake, and bear the consequences of going beyond safety. I don’t know. But there’s something appealing about dying free. So long as it’s my own death.

When that destruction touches the innocent, the taste becomes cheap. Like junk food. Gratifying, slightly. But never nourishing.

The death of the innocent. That’s a different story that I’m not so fond of. That’s what makes today’s incident so important. As I sat there, holding that old woman’s hand in hopes that it would comfort her, I knew I didn’t want this to happen. And I definitely didn’t want to be the cause. The taste of destruction is always sweet, so long as it’s personal. When that destruction touches the innocent, the taste becomes cheap. Like junk food. Gratifying, slightly. But never nourishing. Guilt-ridden, surely. Not my cup of tea. Not usually. And from what I saw today, I know I didn’t want a cup of my own. That carriage owner clearly didn’t enjoy his. How could I?

My dangerous rides on the speedway always came with the statement that ‘I didn’t care’. What I was truly saying was that I didn’t care what happened to me. I’m the foolish type. I like to do first, and make mistakes. That’s how I usually learn. Of course, in my mind, I knew riding fast was not a good idea. But the problem was that I never had the experience to tell me otherwise. In all honesty, I was waiting for the day the Hogs caught me. So it would teach me not to ride foolishly again. And in all honesty, I’m still waiting for the day I crash. That would be a fulfilling lesson. So I knew, until I had an experience, there would be no reason for me to change. Today, I finally got that experience. And sadly, I wasn’t the cost.

Now my mind knows, truly, empirically, what is at stake with high-speed riding. It wasn’t me that was at risk. It was the innocents out there. And even my intoxicated rides weren’t a concern. But today, I saw the filth of intoxication. I hope to never be like that carriage owner. Busy trying to justify themselves while their victims lay wounded on the floor. I’ll never be that disgraceful! I hold too much honour to steep that low.

Today also reminded me of the fragility of the elder populations. I forget that at times. They’re recovery is nothing like us strong beings. My own parents fall into that category. So do all my uncles and aunties. I’m glad I’ve been reawaken to their slower rate of regeneration. And I hope those two lovelies recover.

I can be glad about one thing. I didn’t hesitate to help. It would be a complete dishonour if I didn’t. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t. Because I know. So little of the heathens out there ever stand up when someone is needed. That must never be my story. Folk remember me for a reason. I’ll keep it going that way.

Love from yours truly

-Daniel Roy