Swiftly Told Tales (Taking Prompts/ Requests!)

Distracted Driving - Short Story

White innocent light flickers and catches in her sight. Grabs at her attention, calling out a sailors tune, bewitching her half-absent attention into submission. The summer sun throws bright rays down on the black asphalt, conjures the still landscape to wither and wilt in this pounding heat. Cats befriend panting pups spread out like kneaded doe, consuming the little sliver of shade that spots the busy suburban town. Gerberas wan, drooping In hopes to revert back to a seed-like state, surrounded by nothing but cooling soil.

But not everyone is that lucky.

The trucks air-conditioning unit is usually pretty consistent, but on days like this where she had once witnessed her sister cook an egg on their parents back deck, it was a bit of an uphill battle. Tugging again at the albatross-of-a-scarf looser, sighing as she feels sweat beads slip down her back. The only reason she keeps the dang thing on is in hopes to appear a bit more proper to the potential future in-laws she is, for the very first time on this blistering day, meeting.

Biting at the inside of her mouth, her anxious tick, she plucks her phone from its charging dock, rested in her left hand as she steers with the right. Typing with a wary eye on those who could be watching; Should I have picked anything up?

The reply comes quick much to her relief. No, you're good. Don't sweat it, honey, you know they'll love you.

Are you sure? I mean I did kind of rob the cradle with you without as much as a penny to my name.

Flipping down her visor, she takes the notified iPhone in hand again. Reading the reply; I'm older than you!

Grin lopsided, she replies; That's what you think.

You with your dramatics.

You love it.

She takes a sip from her travel mug, still hot and steaming fresh brewed caffeine. Eyes steady on the road with her phone rested easily on her lap. Turning up the radio, she nervously tries to get out of her head and into 'pleasing her partners parent's' mode. Only if it were that easy, she wishes. Why is it such a nerve-racking thing? Its not like they're, oh I don't know, going to reject her and banish her to a barren land with no privileges to see Nathan again--except they could totally do that. Oh my god, she can't do this.

Yet she continues to drive through the familial neighborhood anyways.

Eclectically colored children bounce and spring along friendly front yards, in rhythm with the swish swashing of water sprinkling their yellowing lawns. Parents sat lax behind street view windows, observing the kids antics from their refreshingly cool and confined perches. Margaritas slipping from round wineglasses to beyond parched lips, laughing accompanying the giddy screams adorning the front lawn.

Slowing to a stop, she peers to the neighboring vehicle. Eyeing it skeptically as she reads the license plate, Big D, accompanied by a rather precarious set of jewels hanging just below from the back hitch. Non too pleased, she gives a slight shake of the head, subduing a silly smile, then switching to observe the melting pedestrians caterpillar-ing across the tame roadway. Slowing into slush as they sweat across the street. Suffocating under the caressing heat that lays heavy in Vancouver this late July day.

A delighted ding sounds, notification reading; I love you. There's a difference... maybe.

Quickly she types out; You sure an out of this world, all-paid night out to the most prestigious award winning Olive Garden wouldn't at least bias them into liking me a bit more?

Eyes half on the buffering ellipsis as the green of the traffic light blares her ready, set go. Leaning on the gas as another reply comes; Nope. Just you and your handsome self will do just fine.

You sure?

A few minutes of nothing, then a simple 'Yep' is all she gets.

Offer going once-oh, just drove by. No second offer for you.

Just get here on time, that's all I ask. See you in a few.

Besides rubbing elbows with Nathan's Ma and Pa, there's nothing unusual about this day. All routine just as it is. All in all, it could be worse.

She's so stupid. So naive and reckless, of course it got worse.

Yes, just a few minutes out. What's the exact address again? Eighteen-hundred-something on Davie, right?

An intrusive honk sounds abruptly from behind her, causing her to drop her phone to the floor mat. Checking her mirrors to see some grey-bushy-browed man with a matching mustache gesturing rather broadly for a reason she can't fathom. Offering a pleasant wave as the stranger roars past her into the vacant oncoming lane, flipping her off as he does so.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Twisting to feel out the ground for her phone, she ducks a quick glance, quickly spotting and snatching it back into her safely secured palm.

Wiping sweat from her brow with the back of said hand, squinting at passing street signs, on the search for Davie Drive. She's running late, she knows that. It's not a great first impression, but it'll have to be it. Turning a blind eye to that of the speed restrictions, she cruises past a schoolyard, littered with a few lasting elementary students monkeying on their play fortress at the end of their day.

Another text from Nathan lights up her screen; It's 1892 David Street, not Davie.

Fucking damn it, she so knew that. That's what I meant. Be there in a second. Shit. Okay, you know what? Not bad. Only an added ten minutes from her initial destination. If she just cuts down Spring towards Broadway and hooks a left back onto the highway, she'll make it there within a single commercial song blasting through her speakers. Hoping to hurry away her new reasons of sweating so profusely.

Both hands busy handling the swift moving vehicle, she hears the faithful ding of her phone again. Sparing a look to see Nathan wondering of her whereabouts. Damn it, this is not the foot she wanted to start off with today of all days.

She wants to reply, reaches to do so, but instead moves with the snap of her neck jarring to the side, seatbelt tight and-

Children who once adorned grinning giggles, not a care to the passing world; now hide behind mothers making frantic phone calls. Some clutching their children close as others push them towards the safety inside. Fathers wrench at manipulated plastic, muscles straining against the contorted shape of a once car door.

Metal is bent with foreign metal, twisted and conjoined in places where leather seats once occupied. Like snow falling, sparkling in the summer light, glass had skittered ever so gracefully over the cracking concrete. Black streaks decorate the pavement in curving slants, painting a picture from chaos. Smoke billows from a ruined Dodge engine; front grill dinted dramatically, the other vehicle very much so still entangled with it. Though the SUV faired unwell, almost tossed on its side, trapped between that of the Dodge and curved possessively around a prudently placed pole, you could still hear a young girls raucous breathing... she wishes it weren't hers alone.

Mirrored is spotted crimson painted on the drivers side window, the nose of her vehicle imposing into that of the other. Intrusively crushing that of a young motionless girl looking just as she does at the same height, same features and sharing a birthday.

The men get the truck door open, and her phone tumbles onto the road, lit up with a new message.

I can understand five minutes late, maybe even fifteen, but a half hour? Come on. This means a lot to me.