Flash Fiction: Nighttime Headlights

He was closer at the time. That, I think, was the only reason I survived, and Herb didn’t. Like a hungry animal, the trick is simply to be the second slowest. Though what was chasing us was not an animal—I’m not sure what it was.

What we could see of it for certain was a light. We were out walking our city at night, a bit drunk, a little exhausted from all the dancing, but mostly calm, chipper, and riding that buzz of a good party, when a light came from behind us. Two of them, shining with a slight orange tint. Continue reading

Thoughts From A Serial Carpooler

Cars are not my thing; I don’t drive. Somehow, someway, through a combination of money, massive texting bouts, and the kindness of complete strangers and close friends alike, I’ve traveled in my twenty-two years to some interesting places almost entirely without touching a steering wheel.

Now, this is not to say I don’t wish to drive, but, circumstances too complicated and personal to go into now prevents me from doing so. Which means, for the time being, I am a rider—I am a person in shotgun or the backseat. Continue reading