Cold Dead Eyes

I don’t know where we were or what we were doing or where we were going.  We were on the highway; my dad was driving.  The sky was dark and filled with stars.  If you rolled down the window, you would smell the sweet and natural smell that only comes from the countryside.
Half a mile up the highway there was a large, lumpy shadow splayed out across the road.  As we got closer to it, the shadow turned into flesh and we realized it was a dead bear.  We were going way over the speed limit and we were much too close to it to slow down and pull around.  All we could do was barrel through.
We got closer and it grew larger in the front windshield.
Closer and closer the dead bear just got bigger and soon you could almost see its cold dead eyes in our headlights as--thrump-thrump—the car bounced and came down and a sheet of dark red fluids draped the front windshield, raining down all around us.  My dad was frozen sold.  I was screaming, asking him if he saw that.  He didn’t move or speak.  He was in complete shock.  Almost on auto-pilot.  I said: “Are you okay?”  He said nothing.  All I could see was red.  The car kept going.  Then the windshield wipers kicked on and wiped away all the blood.  My dad shook his head; he snapped out of it and we continued on our way >>>