The Road Creative Writing

Driving the desolate narrow country highway, I am two counties’ away from Dad’s house. The landscape is cast in the inky abyss of the wee hours. I am alone but for my dog. I curse my decision to leave Dallas so late, when the rear of my car thuds and jerks. The steering wheel vibrates in my gripe as I struggling to maintain control of the car until I manage to hobble it slowly to the narrow shoulder. I sit staring ahead into the beams of the only light for miles around me, I ease the hold of my numb hands.
I slump back against the seat to curse my dread to the cab of my car. I don’t even recall the last time I changed a flat and I have to wonder if my spare is still at pressure or if it is even in the trunk. With my luck, I do have my doubts. …show more content…
I realize the stupidity of that , the moment I try to get into the trunk for my jack and spare. Impossible to use the light and key at the same time. I am fumbling with the light and key, when I saw two sets of head light coming down the highway. They were at least a mile back but as quickly as the front car approached I realized that it was traveling at a dangerous speed, so I stepped off the pavement. The shape of the head lights looked like those of a sports sedan. I heard the engines as it geared down and slowed. The car whipped in behind mine. I couldn’t make out the driver, as the windows were as dark as the night around it. Tinted to illegal blackness, and I felt a slight dread, wondering if this was safe. I saw the emblem of the Cadillac on the front. Surely someone who drove a car of this caliber wouldn’t be an axe murder. I could imagine my Dad scolding me for such an assumptive thought . The car door opened, but I could only see the silhouette of a average height man. A dark clad figure. A beautifully formed man. Athletic, with wide shoulders that tapered down to lean hips. “Having trouble?” His voice was pleasant and