| General Flash Fiction posted November 24, 2018 |
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Dangers of driving in a blizzard
Whiteout
by HarryT
My car was already submerged in deep snow. I tried to pull out, Bob, a fellow teacher, pushed. My rear wheels spun, but I was able to ease out and turn the car so I could pull out of the parking lot. Miss Rugen, our elderly principal, and Bob piled into the car. She lived in her old family farmhouse in a rural area and was afraid to drive home. The gods pelted us from on high forcing us to run a blinding snow gauntlet.
After fifteen minutes of slipping and sliding, she said, “Turn here, it’s just up ahead.” Suddenly, everything went black. Snow squalls swept across the open fields. We plunged into a rolling whiteout. I couldn’t see, I panicked and hit the brakes. The car began to fishtail twirling around three times. Miss Rugen screamed, Bob yelled, “Hold on!” My heart was jackhammering when we finally came to a stop. Luckily, no other cars were on the road. The wind let up, then out of the flying snow we saw the light on her front porch. We made it and she insisted we stay. That was 1967, the time a blizzard buried Chicago and its suburbs.
Blizzard Flash Fiction writing prompt entry
My car was already submerged in deep snow. I tried to pull out, Bob, a fellow teacher, pushed. My rear wheels spun, but I was able to ease out and turn the car so I could pull out of the parking lot. Miss Rugen, our elderly principal, and Bob piled into the car. She lived in her old family farmhouse in a rural area and was afraid to drive home. The gods pelted us from on high forcing us to run a blinding snow gauntlet.
After fifteen minutes of slipping and sliding, she said, “Turn here, it’s just up ahead.” Suddenly, everything went black. Snow squalls swept across the open fields. We plunged into a rolling whiteout. I couldn’t see, I panicked and hit the brakes. The car began to fishtail twirling around three times. Miss Rugen screamed, Bob yelled, “Hold on!” My heart was jackhammering when we finally came to a stop. Luckily, no other cars were on the road. The wind let up, then out of the flying snow we saw the light on her front porch. We made it and she insisted we stay. That was 1967, the time a blizzard buried Chicago and its suburbs.
After fifteen minutes of slipping and sliding, she said, “Turn here, it’s just up ahead.” Suddenly, everything went black. Snow squalls swept across the open fields. We plunged into a rolling whiteout. I couldn’t see, I panicked and hit the brakes. The car began to fishtail twirling around three times. Miss Rugen screamed, Bob yelled, “Hold on!” My heart was jackhammering when we finally came to a stop. Luckily, no other cars were on the road. The wind let up, then out of the flying snow we saw the light on her front porch. We made it and she insisted we stay. That was 1967, the time a blizzard buried Chicago and its suburbs.
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Writing Prompt Write a flash fiction story that takes place during a blizzard. Maximum length is 200 words. |
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