Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction: Placing My Life Into His Hands


Fiction under 250 words.


It’s so hard for me to keep my mouth shut.

I watched my son navigate traffic from the corner of my eye. His hands nervously fluttered over the steering wheel, but his dark brown eyes flashed with determination. Left turns on busy streets were always a challenge, even to a seasoned driver, but they were tricky, even downright dangerous, to an inexperienced driver.

“Don’t take chances,” I mumbled quietly, afraid that if I allowed even one trace of anxiety into my voice it would be enough to spook him from driving forever. “Take your time, watch for an opening.”

I tensed as I noticed his fingers tightening on the wheel. He was getting impatient. That was never a good sign. People made stupid decisions when they got impatient – people sometimes died from those stupid decisions.

“Oh my gosh, this is taking forever!” he growled.

I sighed. His generation wasn’t used to waiting … for anything. Everything was instant gratification and even small pockets of forced patience all in the name of safety were nearly impossible to endure.

“Just don’t kill me,” I half-joked.

He turned his head toward me and scowled. “That’s not funny, mom.”

I never thought funerals were fun, either, I thought to myself. I forced myself to take a breath. “Okay. After this car, floor board it.”

His eyes narrowed and as soon as the car slipped past, he shot out into traffic.

The car roared in protest.

I hung on for dear life.

And prayed.

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