---

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Pipe Dreams” Down in the Dirt, v177 (the November 2020 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Late Frost the Down in the Dirt Sept.-Dec. 2020 issues collection book		get the 420 page Sept.-Dec. 2020 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book the 2021 flash fiction date book (the 2020 flash fiction and art weekly paperback book)		get the 146-page poetry & art weekly planner as a 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Unanswered Questions

Henri Colt

    “I’m done with this!” Brittney threw her cell phone out the window of her pepper-white Mini Cooper and reached over her shoulder for the colorful cotton beach sack in the back seat. A tube of lip gloss, a bottle of clear nail polish, and a handful of candies spilled onto the carbon-black leatherette when the bag caught on her headrest.
    “Shit,” she raged, missing the entrance to the freeway. She leaned forward to wipe her windshield, squinting to see through the fog. On most days, the old reactors of the San Onofre nuclear power station stood out like a pair of implant-filled breasts on a beach-decked California girl. Today, they were barely visible in the haze.
    “Fuck ‘em,” she muttered. Slamming her foot on the accelerator, she yanked on the steering wheel and sped south down the northbound exit of the interstate.
    Visibility was especially poor along that stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway. Drivers had their headlights on, and outside temperatures ran five degrees lower than usual. Hovering clouds covered the road like mist in a Hollywood horror film, and a steady drizzle rattled over her windshield like tumbling hail on a glass-paned roof.
    A passing car honked annoyingly. Britany flashed her middle finger at the driver and made a sharp right turn at the bottom of the exit lane, intending to join the other vehicles on the freeway heading north. Her back wheels slid over a pool of water as she fishtailed into speeding traffic. Had the stereo not been blasting, she might have heard the screeching tires of a Chevy Silverado trying to avoid rear-ending her.
    Brittany wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, but the truck’s middle-age driver was. The Silverado hit the back of her Mini Cooper full force, sending the small car flipping over a metal barrier into a ditch. Its front wheels spun aimlessly as remnants of the crushed automobile stood erect for a moment in the mud. A pacific pocket mouse scrambled out of its nest and crawled up the mangled front fender, then jumped into the sagebrush while mayhem continued on the adjacent road.
    The Silverado was hauling a 24-foot Airstream trailer that jack-knifed against the rear of the truck when it struck Britany’s car. Ripped off its hitch, the Airstream spun into another lane, where it smashed a blue Toyota Prius carrying a forty-two-year-old father of three. A white Mercedes slammed into the Prius, shoving it over the rear of a mother’s Mustang. Her two kids were crushed like paper cups in the backseat seconds before the rolling, tumbling trailer flattened all three vehicles to smithereens.
    Drenched in the smell of urine and feces, the truck driver may have lived long enough to feel warm blood from a ruptured artery drench his pants. First responders said he died struggling to free himself from the grip of his safety belt. Its buckle was stuck against the center console, and they couldn’t cut their way into the cab fast enough to save him.
    Two days later, a California Highway Patrol officer found Brittney’s phone by the side of the road. “I never want to see you again,” was typed in bold capital letters across the backlit screen, but no one discovered why.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...