I saw a man die a brutal death on Halloween.

[steventangent]

Halloween night, I had gone trick or treating with Denae and my brother's family. Denae was dressed up as a zombie clown, all greasepaint, torn clothes and fake blood. I actually felt far too tired to go, but decided it might be a little fun, and my brother told his kids I was being a "fuddy duddy." We came back home, and instead of sitting here being bored, I decided I wanted to go do a corn maze. It just seems like one of those silly fall outside things to do, I guess, and it was a suitably creepy, somewhat overcast night with a big moon. Because I barely plan a damn thing, off we went, Denae still in costume, without warm clothes or wallet or cell phone, to Saline.

We wandered around in the dark and mud with flashlights for a couple of hours, until we decided it was getting tedious and cold. We went to grab food, and I stopped at Meijer to buy a new pair of shoes. We wanted to get home quickly so we took US12 back instead of I94. I was trying to be careful, as it was nearly 2 am by this point, a Saturday night, Halloween, on a dark and twisty road. There were police EVERYWHERE in Saline earlier in the night, shaking down random kids for being on the street (go figure), so there was that to consider, too.

Dark night, iPod on random, we passed through Clinton, heading west. Passed through construction. Passed by Coconuts Restaurant, cutting through the Irish Hills, all dark and winding roads through the countryside.

A faint white flicker bounced off the highway, obstructed to me. "What the fuck is going on here?" I said to Denae, thinking it was a flashlight and someone was in the road looking for something. I put my foot on the brake to slow down. My headlights hit it and Denae said "Oh my god..."

No light reflected from it. Just a monolith, floating in a sea of broken glass. It looked as if it had fallen straight from the sky, a broken piece of Soyuz, mute and futile. I felt my brain trying to process the logical pieces. Steam rose and twisted and broke away from the part that faced me.

I pulled onto the shoulder, fumbled at my emergency lights and called 911 as I jumped out of the car. Denae ran toward the mess, through the detritus, yelling "Are you okay?" as I explained the situation to the dispatcher. I told her we are west of Clinton on US12, but I was passing through and didn't know a cross street. Another car pulled up, and before they bolted, I found out we were half a mile from Tipton Highway. The dispatcher told me I'd be patched through to paramedics. I got another 911 operator, who had NONE of my information, or my location. I explained myself again, flustered, and was disconnected. I went back to the first operator, who apologized and transferred me to a THIRD center, who I was practically yelling at out of frustration, especially when she told me I wasn't where I said I was.

There was an awful, heavy, impenetrable stillness. It was the kind of stillness you can feel like wind or sun on your shoulders.

Denae and I looked inside the car, yelling for a response. It laid on it's side, with a faint interior light on, still hulking and warm and steaming. Through the missing chunk of windshield, I could see a man's thighs, up through his torso. He was wearing dark jeans with a white hoodie, an all-over skull-and-bones print. Though he was twisted, horribly contorted, they were the cleanest clothes I had ever seen in my entire life. I started to kneel to look inside the car. I knew. I knew before I even got to the car that he was dead. A hopeful part said "maybe he's just unconscious..." but before I looked in, Denae said "look" and pointed down. Blood. A river of blood. All the blood in the entire world. We were standing in it, like someone had just dumped a bucket at our feet. I followed the stream in the half-light to the shoulder where it started to collect.

Still on the phone with the dispatch, I ran to the back of the car and peered in. I saw his arm hanging down, a limp and lifeless hand dangling, a crumpled roof where his head should have been. I was worried I'd find another body in the back, or on the road, or another car. I looked for a license plate, but could find nothing but a trunk flap and the "Malibu" logo. I told the 911 operator the man was definitely dead, it was the only car, and there were no more bodies. I looked inside one more time. His clothes were still clean. His body was still twisted. His hand still hung limp. His head was still smashed in.

We stood as far from harm's way as possible and stopped traffic. Denae pointed to where the man had missed the curve, left the road and, still airborne, hit a tree. He bounced back UP the embankment, into the road, and flipped. He had to have been speeding. He was probably drunk.

I breathed a sigh of relief that was all. Just him. Not to be callous or cavalier, and I certainly feel awful for the family, but he ended up where he did on his own... and it was our good fortune, there but for the grace of me putting on those new shoes, that we hadn't been a minute further up the road to meet the poor unfortunate as he careened through the hills. After far longer than what it should have been, and officer showed up. Two more officers. Two ambulances. Two firetrucks. We stood by the cruiser, waiting to talk to someone. I looked down, and at our feet, saw a construction stake that said "Be Prep. To Stop." We gave our account and left.

It's taken Denae a little bit to get over this, and I feel like maybe I should have been more disturbed by it than I was. Call me desensitized, I guess...I don't see it when I close my eyes. My concerns were doing what needed to be done at that time, even if the man couldn't be saved.

It's probably fortunate that we were the first people there. A lot of people would have turned around, or panicked. Not called 911. Been horrified beyond capacity. Certainly, my cautious driving kept us from piling into the car or careening off the road ourselves. I'm grateful that Denae had the fortitude and courage to do what was needed at the time.

I stood there on the side of the road, texting everyone I knew to be careful, if they had been drinking and needed a ride to call me. It gives me a chill to think that that was someone, presumably loved, and we were the first to know they had shuffled off...it gives me to a chill to think it could have been someone I loved.

[scottheisel]

Wow, man. I'm so sorry you had to witness something like that, but I'm supremely relieved that you and yours are safe.

[controlthebleeding]

yea, it's pretty fucked up seeing that.. i can definitely understand where you are coming from. i've only seen 2 people die in front of me (one of which i didn't know and one child) and it definitely stays with you.. thought after a time it doesnt really effect your day to day stuff, you never forget.

good to know there are those people who will stop to do the right thing, even though the person might have already been dead.

[thesack18]

you should write books man. that was well written. glad no on else was hurt

[Guest]

Seriously dude, you write very well.

Crazy story.

[xlovecolouredx]

i'm sorry for didn't ask you for allowance, steven.

it seems you guy face a half dead/ half live situation in every event, brother.

you're very good guy and don't be fail which you can't help his life. you safe a lot by this story at least.

glad to know denane and you are safe.

it's damned when you need some help but the people who response in shit can't help you as mush as you expect....

[adammuzzy]

i literally thought this was someones short story or something that you just posted.

very well written.

[destroyingthescene]

Sorry you had to witness something like that, but I'm glad that you're doing okay.

I must also chime in on how well-written this was.

[silentgods]

Michigan Country Roads are creepy as fuck at night.

[drunkenthird]

its not fun to see that kind of stuff.

In high school, me and my classmates saw a woman jump out a 15 story building from our class window. he hit the concrete and it cracked to the street. it seriously took the cops or anyone around to cover the body out of respect for the busy new york street, the kids around, and for the deceased herself.

[fooood]

That's crazy.. Good thing your you guys are alright.

[mariawithoneeye]

wow that's sad.

[xfedaykinx]

pretty intense

[100resolutions]

Crazy story man.

[halfasspunkshow]

holy fuck i am speachless wow.

[inutil]

That's really fucked up. I just saw one dead person in my entire life and still comes back to me sometimes. It was the body of a middle-aged man laying on the beach, the guy was attacked by sharks and you could barely tell it was a man.

[steventangent]

Thanks for the responses. I wasn't even sure how to go about writing it out, in a way that didn't seem too much like I was working it for dramatic storytelling effect. It is what it is. I actually wrote it out for people that were messaging me on facebook wondering what the fuck was going on with my cryptic, disconnected posts and texts.

I'm not the kind of person who experiences things as sudden shocks, or anything like that. As the week has worn on, as I've read his obit and the things posted about him online, it's come to bother me more and more. I wish I could find a newspaper article or something about it. I keep going through it in my mind... "am I absolutely SURE I did everything that could be done?" "did I handle it the way I should have?" I feel like I'm being judged by some completely unforeseen force. Or that my phone is going to ring and it's going to be some family member or investigator. I didn't really touch too much on the clusterfuck of a response, or how Livingston County 911 left me a voicemail insinuating I made the whole thing up.

It turns out a long lost facebook friend knew him pretty well. I actually used to be good friends with this guy, and he worked with the victim. I worried about family members reading my account...they don't need to hear it. I think I'd be mortified if they had to see it. Maybe they'd be comforted to know he didn't suffer. I don't know. The friend, I remember as being this sort of insensitive prick that doesn't care about anything or anybody, so I was surprised to see that he actually messaged me to see how I was doing and didn't say something harsh.

It's helped to talk to people about it, though it frustrates me to no end that some people say "I wouldn't have even stopped," or "he's just a dumb drunk fucker who did it to himself." He had a family. People loved and cared about him. I've found out just enough from people that have posted their memories of him that he loved going to the same theatre, same amusement park, and same Denny's as I do. He was 10 months younger than me. A new guy I work with had a similar experience last spring, and he actually met the family, and someone in some official capacity called him to ask him how he was doing.

I think Denae is doing alright. Today was the first day we didn't talk about it. I just have to keep telling myself that there's nothing that could have been done. If he'd have been in a hospital at the time, he still would have died.