tristannicholasrichards

[tristannicholasrichards]

Tristan saw it coming and could predict the outcome, but even with his catlike reflexes, it happened too fast and he had no time to react.  He had always heard that time slows down and things move in slow motion for the person going through an accident. They could remember in vivid detail each moment.  But that was far from what he was experiencing.  It was more like capturing moments with his camera. Little snippets as time moved along and all he could do was catch pieces here and there.

“Click”

The bright yellow Camero.

“Click.”

Moving to pass a slower moving pick up.

“Click.”

Coming straight at him.

“Click.”

The hot sun glaring off of the hood of the Camero.

“Click.”

Split second of blindness.

“Click.”

Nowhere to go. 

“Click.”

No shoulder, several foot drop off.

“Click.”

Trying to compensate so the Camero would miss him.

“Click.’

Realizing he failed.

“Click.”

The Camero clipping the front of his bike

“Click.”

 Front wheel stopping abruptly.

“Click.”

The back end rising and flipping through the air. 

“Click.”

Flying out of control.

“Click.”

His leg snapping as the back of the bike smashed into it.

“Click.”

The sound of the bike hitting the ground and metal sliding on asphalt.

“Click”

His body slamming into the ground.

“Click.”

Hearing a bone snap.  His shoulder? His arm? Both?

“Click.”

The air rushing out of his lungs.

“Click.”

Excruciating pain throughout his chest.

“Click.”

His helmet cracking on the asphalt.

“Click.”

Glass breaking and cutting his face. 

“Click.”

A pool of blood spreading on the ground before his eyes

“Click.”

The sound of voices getting closer.

“Click.”

No way to hide what he was.

"Click.”

The world fading.

“Click….”

The highway had been fairly deserted since turning off the interstate and the few cars that he had come across -or more to the point had come across him - had easily passed him and left him behind.  He was in no hurry and not about to do anything stupid. Having talked to his brother a couple of hours ago, he knew he was on time and would get to the car show about the same time Justin did.  He had only gone to Vegas to help a friend.  His friend, Will had a band that was trying desperately to get a recording deal.  A couple of nights before a show that was supposed have some record exec come to see them, the lead guitarist got into a bar fight and busted his hand in three places.  Tristan had been with Justin at a native American conference in San Francisco. When Will called, he had agreed to step in and play.

Tristan hadn’t planned on putting any more miles on his old Fat Boy, but here he was. Part of their trip was to bring the Harley down to Los Angeles where he planned to sell it.  Justin agreed to haul the bike in the back of his Dodge 2500 long bed. Will had been lucky, well at least in the getting Tristan to Vegas respect.  However, the record exec never showed and neither did the bank’s drummer.  It was not the best show, but they had done their best with what they had.  With the previous night behind him, Tristan had hit the road this morning. He and Justin had agreed to meet in Central Cali and it just so happened there was a car show.  The brothers both loved classic cars and bikes, so it seemed like the best place to meet up again. Thus, he was currently on the highway about forty-five minutes away from the meet up.

[tristannicholasrichards]

The highway had been fairly deserted since turning off the interstate and the few cars that he had come across -or more to the point had come across him - had easily passed him and left him behind.  He was in no hurry and not about to do anything stupid. Having talked to his brother a couple of hours ago, he knew he was on time and would get to the car show about the same time Justin did.  He had only gone to Vegas to help a friend.  His friend, Will had a band that was trying desperately to get a recording deal.  A couple of nights before a show that was supposed have some record exec come to see them, the lead guitarist got into a bar fight and busted his hand in three places.  Tristan had been with Justin at a native American conference in San Francisco. When Will called, he had agreed to step in and play.

Tristan hadn’t planned on putting any more miles on his old Fat Boy, but here he was. Part of their trip was to bring the Harley down to Los Angeles where he planned to sell it.  Justin agreed to haul the bike in the back of his Dodge 2500 long bed. Will had been lucky, well at least in the getting Tristan to Vegas respect.  However, the record exec never showed and neither did the bank’s drummer.  It was not the best show, but they had done their best with what they had.  With the previous night behind him, Tristan had hit the road this morning. He and Justin had agreed to meet in Central Cali and it just so happened there was a car show.  The brothers both loved classic cars and bikes, so it seemed like the best place to meet up again. Thus, he was currently on the highway about forty-five minutes away from the meet up.

[tristannicholasrichards]

JACOB ELORDI Saltburn (2023), dir. Emerald Fennell