The sudden death of Carl Archer. (standard:drama, 1631 words)
Author: Arthur Randall	Added: Aug 12 2003	Views/Reads: 3891/2204	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
He never expected it to happen to him the way that it did. It was one of the last things that he would have expected. It is something that can haapen to any of us at anytime. Learn what haunts him on the night that he will never forget.

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like a walking mountain then a man.  He tackled me easily to the ground 
and held me in place.  Even though I was in a rage, he was able to pin 
me down with his enormous strength.  It took me a while to settle down, 
and I eventually did.  As I said, I have never been that angry before 
and I hope that I never get that way again. 

The same officer who intercepted me brought me a coffee as I sat on the
curb of the sidewalk.  I was surprised by his gesture as he handed the 
cup to me from the nearby coffee shop.  After I thanked him, he told me 
that he understood my actions and most people would have done the same. 
He even admitted that he might have torn the guy apart. 

He then told me that he had to take a statement from and asked if I was
up to it.  I told him I would give a statement and told him what 
happened from my point of view.  As I told him my story, something 
suddenly hit me.  We both lived at home until we saved up enough to get 
a good place of our own and we paid our parents room and board.  Mom 
and Dad would have to be told what happened.  It would not be an easy 
task for anyone. 

I told the officer that Carl and I still lived with out folks and they
had to be told.  He offered to take care of the sad task and I was very 
tempted to let him.  I didn't though; I told him that I might be a bit 
easier if I did.  He patted me on the shoulder and stood up.  His eyes 
told me that he didn't envy what had to be done.  Now I know the police 
felt about telling someone that a loved one was dead.  This was much 
worse.  I had to inform my parents that their son, who was only 
twenty-one, was deceased. 

I still can remember as clear as day how our parents reacted to the
news.  When I got home they read on my face that something was wrong.  
After I told them as I fought to remain in control of myself as best I 
could, my mother ran upstairs to her bedroom and locked herself in.  
Both dad and I could hear her cry for the next five hours.  Dad just 
sat in his chair for a few minutes in silence.  He then looked at me 
and asked me how I was.  I told him the truth and about how I reacted 
when I saw the drunk driver when the police were arresting him.  He 
nodded and then he went to the kitchen.  He returned a moment later 
with a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses.  “I think we both could 
use a shot or two,” he told me.  My father was never much of a drinker, 
but he always had a bottle he liked to have once in a while.  I did 
need a shot after the long evening and I was grateful to him. 

That was two days ago that this happened and it still feels like a bad
dream.  I keep hoping that I will wake up at any moment.  Or that Carl 
will suddenly show up and say, “Hey I'm not really dead, it was all a 
mistake.”  I know that that will never happen.  Today is his funeral 
and we all must say goodbye to him. 

Right now I'm in his bedroom at his desk as I wait for the time to leave
to arrive.  We both had out own rooms, but there were some good 
memories here.  We use to play cards and board games in here on rainy 
days.       I use to sneak him up cookies when he was grounded and vice 
versa.  He was always a great fan of baseball and his trophies for the 
best catcher rested on his dresser.  One of his favorite swimsuit 
posters was hung over by his bed. 

As I look around the room I realize, he will never use this room again. 
He and Wendy will never get married and I will not dance at his 
wedding.  He will never have any children of his own.  There will be no 
more good times or beers to share.  It's not fair at all.  He had his 
whole life ahead of him. 

Well I see that its time to go and I really don't want to. I don't want
to say goodbye to Carl.  I would give anything to have him back.  Even 
my own soul if I had too.  I slowly get up from the chair and o to the 
door.  I take another look around the empty room.  It's a pain that I 
have to deal with.  It will ease in time, but the scar will always 
remain.  The sorrow overwhelms me as I close Carl's door for the very 
last time. 

By 

Arthur Randall. 


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