Chasm #TuesdayTeaser

She ran to the open gate, hearing the lonesome sound of its squeaking metal hinge as the sinister breeze pushed it open even wider. Her chest was heavy and heaving, and she clutched at her blouse, trying to hold in her heart. Arching her hand over her eyes, she squinted into the sun and looked down the gravel road. He surely wouldn’t have gotten out on the road, she’d always warned the children about the dangers.

The dismal dust flying, tossing its heinous corrosion into the air, caught her eye first. The car was approaching at an insurmountable speed, waggling across the road and ditches, out of control. Her little boy’s succulent blond head, bobbing up and down by the edge of the ditch—playing and chattering—caught her eye next.

In warped, slow motion speed …her world crumbled. Her heart, viciously ripped out of her chest, fell mangled to the ground …writhing, flailing …dirtied up with gravel.

She couldn’t get to him fast enough. Just like those horrible nightmares that leave you frozen and motionless, she struggled to move—felt like her feet wouldn’t carry her off to her own death.

“Cody!” Terrorized, she screamed, but couldn’t hear her own voice. “Cody! No! Please, Cody, no!”

The car was so close and the dust so thick that, even when she ran to him, she couldn’t see. She only knew that the distance between the end of her world and the out of control car was merely inches.

After the dust settled, the only thing she could see was the dizzying black spots flashing in front of her eyes. Her vision was gone, and her legs were about ready to let go—even they had given up. Barely standing, she could hear the blood whooshing in her ears while she tried to focus, searching for him.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s