The pain started in her chest, worked its way down to her stomach and surged upwards, catching in her throat. She couldn’t move, let alone breathe for a few seconds.
Moments seemed to freeze in agonizing cruelty. Her knuckles turned white from the pressure of gripping the door frame. Her eyes stayed open but they saw nothing beyond the two figures before her, clad in blue, their heads bowed, their voices barely above a whisper.
“We’re really sorry, ma’am. He didn’t see it coming. The sharp curve is what did it. Flung the car straight off the cliff, it did.”
Welcome to The Moving Quill!
For this year’s A to Z Challenge, I’ve taken up the theme of
An Oxymoron rendered in micro-fiction.
Each day’s title will have one half of the oxymoron while the second half will be revealed towards the end of the post.
Follow me as I unravel each tale in exactly 100 words.