Jessica Mack’s head hit the windshield, killing her instantly.
Her spirit, detaching from her body, hovered above it for a short time before rising higher and higher above the cliff. High enough to see the driver of the eighteen-wheeler park his big rig on the shoulder of the highway and jump down from the cab, his yellow slicker a neon point of color in the night as he ran to the twisted guardrail and yelled down that help was coming.
First Lines Contest 2019: Proof of Life
The First Lines Contest 2019 is closed. Please submit your vote in the current year.