HERNSHAW, W.Va., Dec. 3, 2025 — There are news stories that inform us, stories that inconvenience us, and then there are stories that shatter something inside us. The death of this eight-year-old child on Lens Creek Road is the kind of tragedy that forces us to stop and face the uncomfortable truth of how fragile life can be. We report many things, but nothing prepares you for writing about a child who never got the chance to grow up.
A little life, full of possibility, was gone in seconds; a routine drive became a violent, irreversible moment in time. While investigators will eventually tell us the mechanics of what happened, no report can capture the real weight of it. There was a child who should have been in school today, should have been laughing this weekend, annoying their siblings, looking forward to Christmas break, asking questions about the world and dreaming about the future. Instead, a family is staring into a void they never imagined they would face, their world has collapsed in on itself in a way no words can repair.
I (Editor in Chief Stephen Harlow) had to pause this morning after writing that article; I’m not built like a lot of other reporters who can numb themselves to that situation; call me weak or whatever you want to, but as I read that article back after writing it, I was stricken in my heart, in my soul, to my core. Even as I write this, I am still emotional over the whole situation; parents should never have to bury their own babies and babies should always have a chance to grow up.
When something like this happens, the community feels it, and we grieve a child we didn’t know, because the innocence of childhood makes the loss feel personal. We feel it whether we’re parents, as neighbors, and as people who recognize that no amount of explanation will ever make this make sense. As people who have hearts that can be broken, as a society, we have a responsibility to let tragedies like this change us, not just emotionally, but practically. We owe it to every family, in this country and in this state, to take a long look at the roads we drive, the conditions we tolerate, and the choices we make behind the wheel. Not because blame has been assigned, but because reality has made itself painfully clear; and let me point this out too: we are not (I am not) passing blame onto anyone involved in this horrible, tragic accident, we don’t have the right to do that, nobody does. And I pray through the bitterest of tears (that statement is not exaggeration) for the family and for all others involved: we have no idea what any of them must be feeling right now.
This is a reminder that nothing about our daily routines is guaranteed; someone out there is sitting in unbearable silence tonight, a silence that used to be filled with a child’s voice. And if that doesn’t break something in you, then I pray for you too.
This isn’t just a news story: it’s a human story, and it should make every one of us slow down in the way we move through life. And if you have children: make sure you cling to them today and every day, because they are the most precious gifts that any human being can receive from God: I (nor anyone else) have to be a parent to recognize that fact.
The Appalachian Post Opinion section exists to provide thoughtful, honest, and personal perspectives on the issues that affect our communities. While news articles present only verifiable facts, our opinion pieces allow writers to speak from experience, conviction, and emotion, always with integrity and respect. We do not use our opinion platform to attack individuals, groups, or other outlets. Instead, we focus on ideas, values, and the human impact behind the stories we cover. All opinions published by the Appalachian Post remain grounded in truth, clarity, and compassion, avoiding sensationalism and distortion. Our goal is to give readers a space where real voices can be heard, difficult topics can be explored, and the weight of life’s moments can be shared with honesty and understanding.
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