A Series of Unfortunate Events

The body rised from the ground, facing down, the arms reclined in harmony with the shoulders and the hands assumed fist-position. The fresh scars sealed the skin perfectly woven as the face lift off from the curb. The fractured nose, the broken teeth, the dandling eye, all were flying back to where they parted. The feet were now straight, the back bent, and the pelvis clicked in mid-air announcing complete recovery.

The cars on the street all rolled opposite to where they were supposed to, facing the right way nonetheless. The body flew backwards, the shoes retouching the flying pieces of glass as if magically attracting the pieces into forming a complete shield. The windshield glass locked the body half inside and half out. As the body flew back, a cut was unmade on the abdomen and the thighs, the right arm and the left eye. The blood as if disappeared into the body's skin, recolouring the hair back to jet black without a hint of red.

The head pushed the neck back and the top of the shoulder hugged the seat. The hands gripped the wheel and the watch's steel casing unscratched from the wood on the dash. The hard smell of burnt rubber fainted, as the cars more slowly now rolled opposite to where they were supposed to.

The wheel turned to the left, rapidly, to the right, faster, and to the left. The wrist squeaked as it was thrusted right then left then right, as if breaking loose and scratching the watch against the dash. The tires let go of the earth and regained life and depth. The foot let go of the brake pedal, springing up and on its way kicked the thigh with the wheel.

The eyes noticed a flashy silver car flying backwards in mid-air returning to the other side of the road. The hands automatically unclutched the wheel, the curb unpainted the black skid of the tires as the car swerved from the middle lane to the right.

He woke up back into a conscious existence and saw it all happen laid out in front of him.