A man, scarf red as blood, goggles like widened glass eyes, stood by the car, turning the only remaining wheel with his gloved hand. Shards of the broken windscreen were scattered across the dusty ground. The vehicle, crushed, upside down by the man's side, didn't seem like it was going to run very far. I drove up to this strangely dressed man, and offered him a lift.

I was being very kind. I thought he would return the favour and at least say hello. But no. He got in, slammed the door behind him, looked straight ahead and refused to answer me.

"W-were you in that car?"

No answer. I gulped, for some reason. Whenever there was someone else in the car, it was never this silent.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something strange. The man was looking down at his wrist. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a watch in strange figures I didn't understand, and there were only ten of them. He pulled his sleeve back over his watch, and stared straight ahead as if it had never happened.

"A-are you sure you're all right?"

Then he finally turned to face me. I couldn't have been more relieved that he was OK. I thought he was going to say something to answer my question. I couldn't have been more wrong.

An image appeared in his goggles. In both circles of glass, a replica of my car seemed to drive off a cliff that seemed so familiar. I gasped as I looked ahead. It was too late to save us. My car drove off the cliff and into the empty surface at the bottom.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion. I could feel my life being pulled from me, my very soul being taken. I caught a glimpse of my lifeless body in the otherwise empty car before the world I thought I knew so well descended into darkness, and I lost everything, everything...

**********************************

I opened my eyes, and analysed the crime scene surrounding me. I survived this car crash? How? Shards of the broken windscreen were scattered across the dusty ground. The vehicle, crushed, upside down by my side, didn't seem like it was going to run very far. I had an urge to see myself, to see what injuries to my face I had received, so I picked up a piece of glass on the ground and looked for my reflection.

A man with dark hair looked right back at me, gaze distant. A man with a scarf as red as blood. A man with the goggles that had revealed my death to me. A man who gestured to the car driving up the road. A man who got in that car, and drove off onto a cliff. A man who finally understood what those symbols meant.