Inter Stellar Wreck

Hands wrapped in black leather warmth-dots of white specs fly at transparent glass fixed before his eyes.  Plastic heat-vents blow tepid air throughout the cockpit, still freezing.  Strapped in by polyester belts and a silver colored buck of steel.  Thumb, connected, at once is, at the instant of a second kicked to the door panel; sharp pain tells it is most likely broken.  The steering wheel casing becomes a pea-pod exploding to pieces.  Safety devices turn to shrapnel, which blows into the pilot’s face.  Tires leave the surface, as a kaleidoscope of road, cars, trucks, tires, and snow appears for the occupant.  Eyes closed from a collision of cloth and chemical combustion created by an air bag, created by a scientist, created in a laboratory, provided by a company.  He bought it.  The benefits far outweigh cons.  Pop.  A tire blows and then, in a surreal unison of metal, climate, and human being, as the band chimes in, the mixture of automobile and ice cover asphalt.

The pilot thinks as he looks up-I could have died.

He contemplates as he is broadsided by and 18-wheeler, out of control, weighed to capacity, hot from copious hours of work already logged.  He gets no overtime pay.

There is no funeral…



About Terry Scott Niebeling

Hello, My name is Terry Scott, a human being with flaws. twitter: @sirterryscott Buy my ebooks:
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