(Image Credit: Crispina Kemp)
The mammoth truck came hurtling down the highway. Trucks in general, and trailer trucks in particular are rumbling behemoths whose concept of speed is restricted to encouraging trudges, exceptions being Jason Statham movies. But the man behind the wheel seemed possessed by the Devil himself. With a determined foot obstinately fixed on the accelerator, and hands furiously working on the steering wheel and the gears, the heavy set man with a bull neck and a cigar precariously dangling between his lips seemed to be on a mission. A mission with suicide written all over it.
The the friction ignited sparks on the road. Swerving in a serpentine manner the truck was a giant python on steroids. Finally it crashed through the check-post before cartwheeling and transforming into a rolling ball of flame. The driver’s last words were, “all i asked was for a PCR test.”
(Word Count: 149)
Written as part of the Crimson’s Creative Challenge #89 More details regarding this challenge may be found HERE.
1 comment
I like it. Different from the others. And it’s so good to have you back. I do occasionally read your reviews but they tend not to be the kind of books I read (at least not these days)