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alexandertucker
alexandertucker Constructive critisism encouraged
Autoplay OFF   •   2 months ago
I wrote this for Stitchastory’s opposites contest. The set of opposites I chose were stop and go. Now available on Wattpad under the same username.

TW/CW This story contains several potential triggers. On the next slide I will list them, skip that slide to avoid spoilers if you wish.

The possible triggers in this story are as follows: Car accident Alcohol mention Drunk driving Murder Violence/body horror

With that being said, here we go:) I’ve never written anything to be seen publicly, I’m so nervous!

“Stop and Go” Flash Fiction By Alexander Tucker

Plastic bags from the local ABC took air around me.

Plastic bags from the local ABC took air around me. The windows were down,

Plastic bags from the local ABC took air around me. The windows were down, giving the pop music on the radio an echoey quality as it competed with the wind.

Plastic bags from the local ABC took air around me. The windows were down, giving the pop music on the radio an echoey quality as it competed with the wind. It was a melancholy day in February where time passed like wax;

Plastic bags from the local ABC took air around me. The windows were down, giving the pop music on the radio an echoey quality as it competed with the wind. It was a melancholy day in February where time passed like wax; mini bottles of 99 cent liquor the only remedies I knew.

“STOP!”

The tires squealed as they were dragged against the road.

The tires squealed as they were dragged against the road. My minivan came to a halt a moment too late and I sat there,

The tires squealed as they were dragged against the road. My minivan came to a halt a moment too late and I sat there, dumbfounded and inebriated.

The tires squealed as they were dragged against the road. My minivan came to a halt a moment too late and I sat there, dumbfounded and inebriated. A porcelain butterfly had been tied to the rear-view mirror,

The tires squealed as they were dragged against the road. My minivan came to a halt a moment too late and I sat there, dumbfounded and inebriated. A porcelain butterfly had been tied to the rear-view mirror, I watched as it splintered into a dozen little pieces.

With shaking hands I stumbled into the world.

With shaking hands I stumbled into the world. I wiped a dribble of alcohol off my chin,

With shaking hands I stumbled into the world. I wiped a dribble of alcohol off my chin, smudging my pink lipstick in the process.

“Are you alright?”

He was lying on his side a few feet from the vehicle.

He was lying on his side a few feet from the vehicle. He looked to be about 15 years old,

He was lying on his side a few feet from the vehicle. He looked to be about 15 years old, with a backpack and a skateboard discarded in the road around him.

He was lying on his side a few feet from the vehicle. He looked to be about 15 years old, with a backpack and a skateboard discarded in the road around him. His leg was broken and his ribs concave from the impact.

I heard his gasping, pained voice.

I heard his gasping, pained voice. “Please...help me.”

My husband was at work until early tomorrow morning.

My husband was at work until early tomorrow morning. My son was staying the night at a friend’s house.

My husband was at work until early tomorrow morning. My son was staying the night at a friend’s house. I had a choice to make,

My husband was at work until early tomorrow morning. My son was staying the night at a friend’s house. I had a choice to make, and I’d made it the moment of collision.

My husband was at work until early tomorrow morning. My son was staying the night at a friend’s house. I had a choice to make, and I’d made it the moment of collision. They’d never know the truth.

“I’m sorry,” I said,

“I’m sorry,” I said, getting back in the minivan.

“I’m sorry,” I said, getting back in the minivan. “It’s my life or yours.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, getting back in the minivan. “It’s my life or yours.” I drove over him once more,

“I’m sorry,” I said, getting back in the minivan. “It’s my life or yours.” I drove over him once more, just to be safe.

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