When the light turned green I took my foot off the brakes, put it on the gas, and started across the intersection. Jillian and Lillian screamed and I looked toward them. Just beyond them, through the car windows I saw blinding lights, getting brighter, rapidly getting closer. Between the lights was a wall of chrome. Beneath the lights were large black tires.

There was no noise. No sound of brakes. No screeching of tires. Just a wall of chrome, lights, and tires. Everything moved in slow motion as the lights, chrome and tires collided with the side of the car.

My daughter, Lillian, was in the back seat. The window beside her exploded, tiny shards of glass fired from a cannon, cut her face to ribbons. I watched parts of the door lurched toward her, its smooth surface became jagged, plastic and fiberglass cracked, splintered. Metal edges cut through the plastic, then tore into her.

Jillian, my wife, was next to me. She stared at the lights, and blur of metal outside. When the side of the car imploded, her head collided with the window, the glass shattered. Her face, the glass and the wall of chrome tried to occupy the same space. The chrome won, her face was gone. Her neck bent at a right angle, an impossible angle, and inches shorter than it had been a heartbeat before.

Glass was everywhere. It filled the air. Little needles stabbed me, my face, my shoulders, my arms. Everything turned red. I couldn’t see. I tried to call their names, Jillian and Lillian. I screamed their names, but there was no sound. I screamed their names again, and again. I couldn’t hear my screams. I couldn’t hear them. Everything turned red. And silent. Deathly quiet. It was a silence I’d never heard. No sound. No sound of any kind. No sound at all.

And then the red faded to black.





It’s April 3nd, the third day of the 2015 A to Z Challenge. This is the third of 26 pieces I’m writing in April. Today, the letter C. Tomorrow, the letter D. We get Sundays off. Tonight, something different. A clip from my Work In Progress, a work I call Heartsong. I hope you like it. Tune in tomorrow and we’ll both find out what I’m writing for the letter D.