Slipt [antikvár]

Over the years the nightmares had grown less intense, but this summer they'd returned with a vengeance. Though six years had passed since the accident, in her sleep she saw it as clearly as if it had taken place yesterday. Dreaming did nothing to blur the details.In some ways they were worse now than they'd been immediately following the disaster. Time slowed remembrance, making each second pass in slow motion. Everyone bled in slow motion as they died repeatedly in her mind. Died slowly.Squeal of brakes and shockingly uncharacteristic curse from Mrs. Robish as she fought vainly to make the old schoolbus do things it was never intended to do. Thunderous overwhelming shriek from the train whistle warning of imminent doom. A sensation not unlike being caught in a big wave at the beach, tumbling her over and over inside the bus. A wetness salty but not of the sea as blood spurted from dozens of tiny torn bodies as the locomotive ripped broadside into the stalled bus.Above all she remembered the calm which had enveloped her. She hadn't screamed like the rest of the children. She remembered thinking how like snow the inside of the bus became. She'd never seen snow, but imagined from pictures that