This might be the queasiest and most calamitous scene I’ve ever seen to date, though, the ever-vivid picture of the tragedy in my mind has become less lucid and striking.
It was roughly 5:00 a.m. of a hazy and frozen morning, and thick frog massively accumulated in the air. I was dozing on a small bus, which was transporting us to the neighbor city. With few beams of headlight penetrating through the darkness, the highway looked dim and desolate.
Minutes later the bus, without warning, stopped at an unknown location of the highway. Ahead of it was a queue of several cars and lorries with warning lights shimmering at their trails, making me aware that it must have been a road accident, but not a severe one as I guessed. Unfortunately it later turned out to be far beyond what I had thought of.
In an attempt to get informed of what was happening there, the driver went off the bus and clumped ahead. About a quarter later, the traffic police beckoned towards those awaited vehicles that the road was passable. The driver went back and started the bus, edging towards the very heart of the site where there appeared two indiscernibly damaged lorries, one white and one red, from which numerous pieces of shattered windshields scattered around the ground, along with plenty of their fallen components and one inflated tire inches away. The heads of the two seemingly ramshackle lorries had almost disappeared. When our bus inched closer to the site, I faintly saw someone lying amid the cullet, paralleled to the left side of the white lorry. Having had my eyes widened, I found out it was a scrawny male, bleeding all over from his head onto the asphalt road, and his left foot was gone, leaving the remaining part resembling some rough scarlet stub. This bloodcurdlingly astonished me and soon made me realize that he was, in a forlorn but peaceful state, deceased on the cold asphalt road. I could easily imagine how catastrophic the collision had been.
The bus went on snailing and the driver commenced rambling to the unassuaged passengers over what he had heard from the drivers familiar with the accident. From his narrative, I got to know that this wretched guy was under his pulled-over lorry, repairing it, when suddenly another galloping lorry heavily dashed on its rear in the dark, as well as him lying beneath. The calamity could have been avoided, but the guy, prior to fixing his lorry, had forgotten switching on the warning lights, nor setting up any roadblock. The distress finally generated and relentlessly claimed his innocent life.
The dawn slowly broke, and it went into a serenely warm day. The bus continued loading us in a moderate speed towards the city in neighborhood. However, a cursed soul, without vacillation, eternally departed for another world in the fair morning. It’s conceivable how painfully his family, as well as his friends, would later on react upon his demise. But no one could retrieve this disaster. It merely formed another expensive lesson to those other drivers still sprinting on the highway today.