Dark Memory (story version)

Dark Memory

         I was only a child when it happened, only ten to eleven years old.  So young, so naive.  How was I to know that this would happen?  How was anyone too know that this would happen?  No one did know and no one was prepared for it.  I was still only a child when this happened I still did not know much of the world.  Of how it works, or how cruel the world can be.  Back in the day when I would think that everything would always happen to someone else why be protected when it always happens to someone else?  It was like I was Superman strong, and invincible. 
         Although in reality, of course, I am not Superman.  This was proven to me on that day.  I recieved a lesson then, a lesson well learned.  Although, I still wonder, to this day, that perhaps with what happened was I supposed to go on in life? was I supposed to die on that day but by some incredible miracle survived?  What happened on that day...  For why it happened I will probably never know.
         To re-tell the tale, that is curently seven to eight years old, may take awhile.  This was a fearful experience for me.  To be near death, to have what seemed to be as though time had stopped.  I did not know what people who are dying go through.  How they feel when time stops and everthying for them seems to be over.  As they drift away into the perpetual darkness.
         On that day I was taken to my grandfather's by my mother, for what reason she went I do not know, I however had no reason for going.  My grandfather lives in a two story building two floors one for him and one for my aunt, uncle, cousins and their dog, currently a cat also.  Outside of this house there was a yard in front and a fenced in yard in the back for the dog.  to the right of the front of the house was a garden.  Further along in this direction was a small road that led to a truck stop garage far in the back.  off to the left was a larger two part driveway shared between my grandfather and his neighbour.
         This driveway would lead off into a small parking lot to the left which was a transfer trailer stop.  This was where empty transfer trailers were left in two rows until they were needed again.  At the end of the two part driveway there were two garages one for my grandfather and one again for his neighbour.  Also just behind the garage and my grandfather's house their was another building unkown to me for it was for it was always there and seemed to be some kind of business.  further beyond this building was another paved road and futher still lay the truck stop.  further to the left there was a small Speedy Propane factory.  Further still lay a farily large experimental farm.  Also across a busy street there existed a building for a company that would sell flowers every summer.  This was not a very serene looking place for the province known as Prince Edward Island.  This is the area where my grandfather has lived.
         Upon arrival at my grandfather's I immediatly went upstairs to see my cousin since there was nothing for me to do on the first floor.  I met my cousin on the top floor of the house and we played with toys and played games and time went by.  Eventually my cousin said "Hey want to ride the Four Wheeler?" Although, at the time, I did not what a "Four Wheeler" was I had never heard of such a thing.  My response to her question was "Sure" and with that single word the incident began.  My cousin had told me that her father had some helmets but if we used them and hit something then we would be knocked out so we decided that we would be better off without them.  This was the first mistake. 
         We traveled down the stairs and out the front door of the house.  Turned to our left and went down the driveway toward the garage where my uncle was working on something.  We asked him if we could use the Four Wheeler and said "Okay" and retrieved it from the garage.  My cousin and I climbed on top of this machine and prepared ourselves.  My uncle helped us prepare and soon before we were ready I bent over to my right and spit on the ground.  That's when I heard the warning from my uncle.  As my uncle warned me against spitting over the edge.  I did not understand what he was talking about as he never explained.  After this we were off although there was another mistake that occured before we left.  My uncle had not told us, or even said anything about wearing his helmet's this was the second mistake.
         My cousin was driving which was a good idea since she knew how to control the machine.  The minute we were off she took us too the two rows of transfer trailers.  It was all a matter of time now.  Upon arrival at these trailers my cousin continulously drove around them in a continuous, endless circle.  Eventually my cousin suddenly jutted the Four Wheeler inward taking us just under the corner of a transfer trailer.  "What was that?" I asked and my cousin responded "That was a sharp turn".  It was not long now until the incident would truly occur.  at some point in time just before my cousin took another sharp turn I felt an urge to spit on the ground again which I did.  This was the third mistake. 
         Just as I did this my cousin took the sharp turn and as I took up my head I was directly underneath the corner of a transfer trailer.  I took my head up a little too fast and did not realize until it was to late.  I had hit my head on the corner of a transfer trailer.  Me, not completely realizing what was going on other then the fact that I had hit my head on the corner of a transfer trailer, burst into tears.  My cousin hearing this returned us to the house.  I, still oblivious to everything, continued to cry although my head felt like it just had a bad headache.  There was no blood at this point I could not even feel the wound.  Upon arrival at the house me and my cousin left the Four Wheeler and headed inside.
         We ran upstairs where we met my uncle, again, and my aunt.  I sat on a couch in the living room and my cousin was taken into the kitchen and was yelled at.  I do not know what was said to her as I had already lost too much blood.  The bleeding was severe and showed no signs of stopping.  I was beggining to get drosy and my aunt continulously came in the room with a face cloth to sook up the blood in my head.  Already by the time I had just sat down on the couch my I was losing my hearing I could not hear anything all I knew is that I felt like falling asleep.  Leaving the world, reality itself, to what I believed would be basically a nap.  But unknown to me if I did this then I would most likely leave the world to the perpetual darkness.  My father was called who arrived soon later. 
         At this point I went through a point in time that I cannot recall.  I was picked up by my father from my grandfather's house and was eventually taken too the Queen Elizabeth Hospital.  There I sat in a waiting room for hours until I could see a doctor.  Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, and hours become days to me.  I felt like I had spent days there when it was only hours.  My drowsyness had worsened and I was drifting in and out of sleep.  My dad tried to warn me not to fall asleep for fear of me ending up being unconscious.  After about four hours I went in to see a doctor.
         The situation was explained to the doctor.  Who looked at my head and could see that I needed stiches.  But he refused.  Said he could not do it, said that I had to much hair.  No arguement was made on this and the doctor told us what to do.  At which point he put his hand in my head and I thought it was all over as the bleeding again started.  By this time I my have been lucky as by this time my body seemed to have adapted to the lose of blood and I was now fully awake.  I had already lost enough blood to make me very drowsy and the possiblity of going unconcious.  Now that the bleeding had restarted how much more blood could I lose before I would die?  The doctor told us not too do what he just did as he caused the bleeding to again start. 
         With the doctor still saying that he could not do anything, my father and I left and returned home where I had to stay and let the wound heal, naturally.  But there was still one problem the doctor's tone of voice, the way he spoke to us made it seem like it was all hopeless as though he was thinking "Why give this kid stitches when he'll probably die anyway?".  Why indeed.  Although this was not the end.  After this ordeal I was petrified by the mention of the Four Wheeler.  This went on until one day when the time came to again ride the Four Wheeler.