Unnamed Journal Volume 3, Issue 2 - Page 9

Lagland saw McIntyre’s pale green Prius making a right-hand turn into the same path as his Civic before he recognized it. The fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror clinched it. The Civic wasn’t going to merely T- bone McIntyre; it was going to impale him. Time slowed down; awareness expanded. Not a word passed Lagland’s lips as he stomped his brakes and turned hard to avoid the Prius, nor when he jabbed his left foot onto the parking brake in a desperate effort to avoid impact. He succeeded; the Civic and Prius just avoided one another as McIntyre swerved over the curb. But the centripetal force demanded a new path of least resistance. The Civic flipped. The world crushed in on Lagland. Glass and steel shattered and bent as the laws of physics commanded, tossing and cutting him. The Civic rolled once, twice, three times before landing at the other end of the intersection. Miraculously, it struck no other vehicles. When it came to rest, the engine was silent and the horn did not blow. Steven Mordred McIntyre emerged from his scuffed pale green Prius and ran to the crushed Civic, dropping his pocket watch amid the debris on the way, but it was too late. John Lagland lay broken across the front seat and made no further comment. Eternity called him on with barely a whisper. UJ