The wind pushes back on the car but to no avail. The gentle slope feels like a cliff drop as the car quietly but rapidly rolls forward, like nothing but a miracle would stop it.
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you are at the precipice of eternal oblivion. Well murder mystery scenes flash before mine. Did someone sabotage my brakes? At 16, I had neither a psychotic spouse nor a phenomenal insurance policy! White noise on the radio plays an ominous requiem. They don’t even know that I have taken the car. Was this how I was destined to go – A Jane Doe!
Suddenly words of caution penetrate my fog of despair – Remember, its an electric system, the brakes wont work unless the engine is running.
In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers challenge of July 19th based on a photo by Kent Bonham