Short Story - Highway No. 57

Get out! She yelled. Looking daggers at her, he left, slamming the door behind him.

Noooooooooooo, she bolted upright, jactitating. Blackouts usually followed her crying fits, but not nightmares. Shafts of fading sunlight pierced the eerie shadows of the room. Getting up to turn on the light, she hoped he was alright. She could not help worrying as she cooked, tidied the house, took a warm shower and sat down for a lonely supper. The radio was playing their song. She was about to turn it off when an announcement came on, A young motorcyclist was killed and a motorist seriously injured in a head-on collision at about 8pm on Highway No 57. The police have not yet identified the deceased, whose body has been taken to the General Hospital for autopsy.

The fork clanged on the floor, springing her into action. His phone sang Everything I Do on the refrigerator in response to her call. She hoped he was at Dan’s, his childhood friend and best man. But he had not heard from Rob over the weekend. Frantically, she called whoever she could think of, only to get the same response. Putting on a jacket, she grabbed the car keys and stepped into the chilly Sunday night, not noticing the silhouette on the dimly lit porch settee. She was about to get into the car when two strong arms seized her from behind, turning her around on the spot. Her eyes widened in shock, and then in relieved surprise.

Note : This was my entry for the Running Wind Short Fiction Contest held recently. The story had to be composed in not more than 250 words, using the picture above for inspiration. No, I did not get a prize. I really learnt a lot about improving my writing skills though :)