By Lawrence P. McGuire
Blood. Steams. Traffic stopped. My daughter’s trike. Her shape under a sheet.
Later, TV reporters dissected my only child’s death. The press attributed my Hope’s death to a bad intersection; crash detectives agreed. The man who crushed all my future days in that crosswalk was never charged, but that didn’t absolve him from blame.
Daily, I brought M&M’s to her grave. My tears thawed cold Maryland clay. I pressed each candy into sticky mud.
The man surrendered his license, walked to bars.
Shadowing him, I weakened my brakes.
Later, reporters dissected his uncanny death.
The same intersection.
How strange.
Curse?
Accident.
Wow!
What effect did you have in mind having used ‘dissected’ on the story?
BRILLIANT!
Good title too
Brilliant 🙂 Loved it
Wonderful: it shows the grotesque lack of respect we show for human life when it comes to vehicular killings: twice in only 101 words.
Chilling, powerful
Utterly brilliant! Love the simplicity of the final words.
What to say? Best story I’ve read on this site . Eyes prickled, then pow! Your brilliant twist.
Excellent . Loved the images. Wanted to cry then scream.