The A9

Tonight’s wordy treat is a sample of flash fiction I cobbled together for homework.  We had to turn a mind-numbingly boring letter about a speeding ticket on the A9 into a work of art.  Picasso it is not, but I’m pleased with how it turned out.


The A9

Hedges and trees pass the corner of her vision, distracting with their noise.  Flick, flick, flick, as she turns onto the A9, white knuckling the steering wheel.  Cat’s eye, cat’s eye, blurry cat’s eye.  Breathe.  Focus.  This is a dangerous highway.

She lifts a tear from her eye with a finger, takes a shuddering breath and concentrates on the road.  Branches whip into the open windows, reaching in with their leafy tentacles.  Eyes dart to the rear view mirror.  ‘Fucking move’ she fizzes, through stress glued teeth.  Her trembling fingers reach to the compartment beside the handbrake and she makes a grab for her phone, turning it over to reveal NO SIGNAL.  An angry scream escapes from her mouth, fists attacking the wheel.  The cold air turns her skin from icy to numb, but she can still smell them, the fumes.

Windows stay open.  Foot on the pedal.  Focus.  Cat’s eye, cat’s eye, cat’s eye.  Breathe.

Dart to the rear view again. Oh God oh God.  She shudders, the car swerving wildly.  Is the air doing us any good?

Blue light and a siren’s wail looms behind her.

‘Pull over please’

A heavy sigh jogs alongside the wild screech of brakes, as her husband’s dead weight rolls from the back seat on to the floor.


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