Notes: It was an english assignment from high school, which is to write an extended metaphor of a memory. It's a memory, actually, sort of. No I didn't smash my head into the window but it certainly fits the purpose of the assignment.
I sat cautiously in the backseat behind the driver. The right side naturally, right? My two cousins and I had run into the car to hide from the bone-chilling cold and still we shivered. They laughed rambunctiously and suddenly the car pulled out of the driveway. Destination: one block around the curb, from party to cousin's house. Single smooth backup jerks at switching gears, plunging forward into the ominous night. Their laughter haranguing my ears, Safety First! Shivers run down my spine and course back up my throat; an exasperated gasp escapes. Accelerate STOP accelerate. The seatbelt keeps me safe within a thirty degree angle. I dig my palms into the edges of the strap across my torso, trying to sit up against the velocity. Swing to the left and my head smashes into the window; I recover. Accelerate swerve STOP. The numbing cold enters my body anew, from the tips of my toes, fingers, nose, and tongue. I smooth out my hair and free myself from the cramped space. Once outside, I reach with a finger from my huddled figure to wipe the sheet of frost coating the slanted rear windshield. The glass is smooth and icy like silk, and a bead of water leaves my fingertip and accumulates into a slithering puddle gliding down the clear rigid surface. A silent splatter on red metal.