That summer was a hairpin curve taken at ninety, blue lights lost among trees. The humid air shivered with rebellion, and my mother’s tears formed the heavy raindrops during that summer thunderstorm. But what does a teenager care what their mother thinks or says or tries to do for? She was idling at zero while I was going a hundred in the shotgun seat of his red speeding bullet. Faster, I didn’t want to see the world, I just wanted to feel its colors. A blur of infinite light and dark, bright and obscure, like his car when it went airborne. A moment, just a moment, and we were flying.
about the author:
Alice King is currently a junior at Longwood University. She is majoring in English, with a concentration in Creative Writing. Alice began writing in middle school, and has won two short story contests. Two of her poems, “shiver” and “Daughter,” are published in Crab Fat Magazine.