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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “6 Feet Under” Down in the Dirt (v136) (the May 2016 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book A Stormy Beginning the Down in the Dirt Jan. - June 2016 collection book		get the 318 page Jan. - June 2016 Down in the Dirt issue anthology 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

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Lightning Louise

Carrie Ives

    Louise drops the bomb on the trunk of my ‘68 Fairlane parked out by the river. It was once our favorite spot. I take a swig from the bottle of Jack and scan her face for lies. I thrust the bottle at her and she shoves it away.
    Lightning flashes.
    “Get in the car, Louise.”
    One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three...
    Thunder crashes.
    She starts to cry as she slams the passenger door.
    Big fat raindrops hit the top of the car.
    The wheels on gravel vibrate the steering wheel. The car’s headlights barely penetrate the hovering fog, and the state highway comes up fast. Tires screech on the wet pavement. I spin the wheel hard to stay in my lane. Gravel peppers the stop sign I ignored. The truck horn blares a warning, his silver bulldog flashes in the headlights. He’s going the other way.
    Louise screams as the lighting flashes again.
    “Tommy, I want to go home.”
    “Where do you think I’m taking you, Louise? Stop crying already. Your face looks like shit.”
     The radio drowns her sniffles as Del Shannon sings about a runaway. Her tears and the rain can’t touch me.
    “You’re going too fast!”
    “Just shut up already! I won’t miss it.”
    Tires squall around the corner, but old man Mickles’ mailbox is safe this time.
    Maybe I’m not drunk.
    “Third house on the right.”
    As if I’ve not climbed the trellis to your room every night for the last six months.
    My front bumper clips the garbage can and spills its rotten guts across the yard. Louise charges into the rain before I stop the car, her poodle skirt and white blouse clinging to her body. Her ponytail hangs in strings, but the rain masks her tears as she looks back over her shoulder at me from the safety of the porch and her mother’s waiting arms.
    Yeah, good night to you too, sweetheart, and thanks for nothing.
    Her mother waves to me but I slide across the smooth black leather and slam the door, pretending I don’t see her. I’m tired of playing games with that girl and her do-gooder family.
    If her mama only knew how much of Louise I’ve seen, she’d have a shit fit! Precious angel my ass, but she’s not trapping me in a marriage. Uh-uh, no way!
    The rain pounds on the roof, heavier now. The Pearson’s mailbox falls prey to my back bumper. The windshield wipers barely work, but I can see the road. I have good tires, and Blarney’s Bar is waiting a mile away. I dig around under the seat for the bottle of Jack.
    Where is it? Louise better not have chucked it out the window or I’ll be pissed. No, wait, there it is.
    I can almost reach it but my fingers keep slipping off the glass edge. I lean over farther in the seat so I can wrap my fingers around its neck.
    Another flash of light blinds me.
    The storm is here.
    The big 350 engine’s scream drowns the thunder.
    I feel like I’m floating.
    Rending metal cuts my arm while crimson glass peppers my face. Everything goes black.
    A white ceiling stretches above me. Something soft cradles my head. My mother’s roses scent the air. Sunlight beams of amber and blue stream across the room. Soft music plays on the edge of my hearing.
    Is someone crying?
    My mother is looking down at me.
    “He was such a good boy, Marie.”
    She nods.
    It sounds like Aunt Martha, but she calls me hell on wheels.
    “The young are always taken too soon.”
    Uncle Joe? He is driving a truck, never at home.
    “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
    The pieces fit together and I rise, lighter than air. People gathered wear suits and dresses. Flowers surround Mrs. Peabody at the piano. Whispers scurry through the crowd.
    Can they see me?
    I drift lower and then I see it.
    That’s my body. I’m in a—in a casket...
    The preacher’s voice is muffled as he motions everyone to rise. They file out as I sink into my body.
    No! Wait! Don’t close that! I’m not dead! I’m right here!
    Louise stands in my mother’s embrace, one hand patting her shoulder as the other clutches at Louise’s stomach.
    Louise! Don’t let them do this to me. Louise save me! I’ll marry you. I’ll be a good husband and good father, just don’t let them put me in the ground.
    My world goes black again.
    Louise? You’re still pretty.
    It’s silent.
    Louise?
    I can’t hear anyone.
    Please Louise?
    I don’t feel – anything.

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