Cindi loved the purring of her V8 and driving fast was far better than sex with Ralph.
She pressed the accelerator a bit more and felt her sport car clinging to the road approaching another bend in the road.
“I like surprises” she’d told Ralph, but she had expected diamond rings rather than manipulated brakes.
Suddenly: twisted metal, crushed glass, oil and blood.
Painlessly she passed into darkness; light was entering from a faraway door opening to blinding light.
Then she was back in paraplegic dependency.
Now she cannot say a thing; she only watches as Ralph claims her property.
To me the door worked as a metaphor for being close to dying. My first impression that I went with.
I’ve been on hiatus and reenter into the frenzy of Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle hosts and present us with a picture, and we follow, telling our own stories.
August 16, 2017