Flash Fiction, Random Rants, tutto e niente

The Lights

Tina Stewart Brakebill

Flashback post for Fandango’s Flashback Friday

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I’d noticed the lights when I left the motel. They never got closer. But they also never dropped back. It was like we were attached by an invisible static line. I told myself I was being paranoid but a line from that movie he loves kept running through my mind.

“Who are those guys”?

Except I knew who it was. It had been two days since I escaped. I thought I was ok. Even stopped to sleep for a few hours before getting back on the road before dawn. But then those damn lights appeared. Nearly 24 hours later and they were still there.

I must be wrong. There’s no way he could have found me. But what if he did. He said he’d kill me if I ever left. I can’t go back. I won’t go back. Those lights felt like his eyes. Glowering. Raging. Unblinking.

I will not go back.

As the bridge loomed ahead, another line ran through my mind.

“The fall’ll probably kill ya.”

And then the lights went out.

autumn bridge color conifer
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

(174 words)

Written and inspired by FFfAW ‘s photo prompt (provided by Jodi McKinney) with a little help from Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid.  

And remember, domestic violence is NOT just a story or a piece of flash fiction. If you are in danger, please use a safe computer to access info at https://nnedv.org/ or call 911, a local hotline, or the U.S. National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 and TTY 1-800-787-3224.

Published by Tina Stewart Brakebill

14 thoughts on “The Lights”

  3. This is such a gripping, suspenseful story and you did a superb job giving us just enough details to know who might be following her and keeping us on the edge of our seats wondering if he’ll catch up…and that ending…:(

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  6. Thank you for sharing this. My aunt (RIP) was severely abused over a period of 25 years by her first husband. I am not sure how much the head injuries she sustained contributed to her eventually developing dementia, or if that was simply a fault in her DNA.
    Her first husband was a very violent man. My aunt tended to be the main target of his physical violence. He also sexually abused his nieces and daughters. My mother said that he was “a nice guy” when he and my aunt were first married and the alcohol turned him violent. I was astonished that she could defend him. Maybe it was hard for her to see someone she’d considered a friend at one time in a bad light.

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