Short Story 1 by GG

male, maybe in his early thirties, wearing a baseball cap backwards on his head. Lisa
waived her hand intending to communicate to the angry driver she was sorry if she did
anything wrong, which in reality, she didn’t.
The truck was now just a few feet behind her, definitely tailgating, while flashing its high
beam lights. Lisa suddenly got chills as her fear level grew rapidly. She thought the
driver of the truck would not go away until he seeks some sort of vengeance that lives in
his angered brain. Lisa picked up the pace to gain some distance between the two
vehicles, but she was driving a sixteen year old, small four cylinder car. The truck’s
driver easily caught up with Lisa and was obviously following her, and mad. The driver’s
actions caused Lisa to feel cold to the point of shaking as her fear level was now very
high. Not knowing how to get out of the situation, she started to cry.
She did not have Blue Tooth in her car so she reached for her cell phone that was on
the passenger seat. She dialed 911, but as the 911 dispatcher was asking what the
emergency was, Lisa could not say a word. Before she could explain her plight, she
suddenly felt an impact to the rear causing her to drop the phone on the passenger
floorboard. Lisa frantically reached for the phone but her outstretched fingertips just
moved the phone under the passenger seat, completely out of reach. Her body
trembled with fear as she said to herself, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” She made a
quick right turn onto the canyon road that heads into the mountains hoping, actually
praying, the curves would slow the truck down.
As Lisa rounded the curves, the truck seemed to gain even more speed, as several
times her rear bumper was struck. “Is this guy for real? Is he trying to kill me because
he feels I cut him off? What kind of person does this?” Her question was answered as
the truck struck her right rear corner as she rounded a right curve, causing her to go out
of control, running over bushes on the narrow dirt shoulder. She regained control as
she crested the mountain, seeing the Pacific Ocean and the lights of Malibu on the
other side. As she tried to speed away, the truck kept pace, with the crazed driver
flashing the high beams and honking the horn.
Lisa felt if she pulled over to say she was sorry to have angered the man, his out of
control anger could lead to her death. She kept going, and she kept crying. As she
raced around a left hand curve, the truck accelerated and struck the rear of Lisa’s little
car hard enough to guide it over the cliff. Lisa’s car rolled over twice and came to rest
upside down about one hundred feet over the cliff, with its right side being supported by
a large tree that saved Lisa from tumbling another four hundred feet down. It looked as
if the tree stopping her car did not really matter as Lisa lied motionless behind the
steering wheel, bleeding profusely from several points on her head.
The man in the truck pulled over and got out of his car, but his violent soul kept raging.
Although Lisa’s car was badly damaged and over the side of the cliff, he reached behind
the driver’s seat and pulled out a shotgun. He placed a shotgun shell in the firing
chamber by raking the slide, which is a sound pretty much anyone would recognize.
Although Lisa did not die in the crash, she was near death, about to lose consciousness