By Jim Bonnor
He drives the middle road, across The Heath, tarmac edges crumbled like eczema, clamping his cheap car to the centre of the camber; the realm of tractors and pheasants.
The Give Way sign is ahead, the vanishing point of hedges higher than a man, set back on geese-wide green verges.
He’s going nowhere, just home, that silent empty sham.
He’s driven this a hundred times, always wondered: what if he ignored the sign, went straight across? Never any traffic.
Fifty yards to go and he puts his foot down. Fifty. Sixty. Adrenalin accelerates.
There is a moment he feels alive again.
Wow – a really powerful story! I was racing at 50, then 60 – expecting the collision – but no! The ending is deeper than that. Loved it.
Thanks so much for reading Jacci. I’m glad you could put yourself there.
Having done this while my brain was busy with matters aside from driving, there is nothing that makes one feel more alive. Obviously I lived to tell about it.
Great story
Kind of morbid–but a great read! Good job.