Fortnightly Fiction
By MICHAEL BUCKINGHAM GRAY.
HE SLIDES THE CAR sideways, mounts the kerb and smiles. Opens his eyes. Fluorescent tubes replace the moonlight, and a bed supports him instead of a driver’s seat. A doctor looms over him.
‘You were lucky,’ she says.
He is not so sure. She reminds him of the passenger who once sat beside him, who gave directions. He turns away. Wanders out of the hospital before staff have the chance to offer any painkillers. Walks through the forecourts of car dealerships. And before the moon appears, spills out onto the road once more.
♦
Michael Buckingham Gray’s writing has appeared in Flash: The International Short-Short Story Magazine, Microfiction Monday Magazine and elsewhere. His debut fiction ‘And Brings Up Loose Dirt’ was labelled a “masterpiece” by SmokeLong Quarterly. He teaches writing for Work-Shop. His Fortnightly archive is here.
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