Leslie
By Mae
Ondracek
©2001
The tires screeched as Leslie pushed the
little car into a sharp turn. A skid
seemed imminent until Leslie pressed the accelerator and pulled out of the
turn. The street was dark, pierced only by the twin daggers of the headlights.
Suddenly an oncoming car came out of the
darkness, its headlights hitting her square in the eyes. She didn't dare brake or turn suddenly
because she'd flip for sure. Luckily the
shoulder of the road was wide enough for her to quickly pull over. With perspiration forming on her brow, she
knew she had narrowly avoided a head-on collision by the skin of her teeth; her
heart was doing flip-flops inside her chest.
Why, why, did she have to take this
route? Why couldn't she have driven in
the daytime? Questions formed in her
mind, but no answers were to be realized.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Leslie was about
to return to the highway, when twin lights again pierced the darkness ahead of
her. Leslie stayed on the shoulder of
the road and sees it is a semi approaching, right down the centerline. “What is the matter with these crazy
drivers?” Leslie wonders as she continues on her way, now driving more
cautiously. Would she reach her
destination in one piece or was a wreck preordained?
Suddenly the car engine died; the screen
went blank and Leslie's head fell to the steering wheel. She was trembling, but glad to have that
part of the driving test behind her.