Driving Home


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt


It was so foggy, Reba though she could eat it by the spoonful. She hated driving in this stuff. The light from her low beams just turned everything yellow, and gave her very little help in seeing the road. She paid close attention to headlights coming her way. Everything seemed distorted by the fog, and she didn’t like the idea of a head-on collision with some idiot who was driving too fast in this soup.

Image result for driving in heavy fog

She knew this road so well. She used it every day going to work and then back home. For years, she had driven the curves and hills until she felt as if it all belonged to her. She’d driven it in the miserable icy winters that gave her “black ice.”  There would be no warning because she couldn’t see the ice. It could turn you around and point you the wrong way in a split second.

She’d driven it in snow, rain, even hail every now and then. She was tired of it. Tired of working, tired of driving, just tired.  She was 75, but she couldn’t see any hope of being able to quit her job. Bill’s slow, painful death had drained their resources, so if she wanted to eat, she had to work.

She hated going home to a dark, empty house. She didn’t even have a dog any more, because she was seldom home and felt that a dog needs its people.

Reba relaxed her grip on the steering wheel just a bit, realizing that her hands were aching.  “Just relax, Reba,”  she thought. “Only two more miles and you’ll be home. You can do this.  You’ve done it for years and years, and tonight is no different than all the rest.”

At that moment, she saw the yellowed headlights of the huge vehicle heading toward her. She couldn’t tell if it was a truck, a maintenance vehicle or some such thing. Too big to be a minivan. Maybe one of those Humvee things.

Then, her heart quickening, she realized that it was indeed coming straight toward her! Not in the opposite lane, but in her own lane. She laid on her horn like a crazy woman, giving blast after blast, but the vehicle never wavered, never slowed. It was almost as if it knew exactly where she was.

She tried moving to the shoulder of her lane, but quickly realized that there was no usable shoulder. The slope of the hill along the side of the road was steep. Dangerous.

Use the other lane?  She didn’t see headlights, and thought she’d be okay. But when she steered to her left, the oncoming vehicle matched her. Thinking the driver realized he was in the wrong lane, she steered right–and so did the other driver.

Now she was shaking all over.  What was this?  Some demented person looking to create an accident?  Who would do that?

As the other vehicle came closer and closer, Reba understood that it was going to plow into her, no matter what.  It’s amazing all the thoughts that flood one’s mind the moment before a catastrophe strikes; a moment before she realized she didn’t truly want to die just yet.

Not yet.



6 thoughts on “Driving Home

  1. A cliffhanger! Very good! It’s going to take some doing to get her out of this accident alive.
    The fog patch must thinned right then, seeing they both got a lot of maneuvering in from when she first saw the vehicle — driven by some homicidal maniac, one would conclude.

    Liked by 1 person

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