Gone in a Flash


Flash Fiction written in under ten minutes as an exercise. Jack dives into the first person perspective of the last living moments of a kid trying to impress a girl having gone wrong.


This isn’t how it was supposed to go. There is no way to turn back now and it’s all a waste. Hindsight is 20/20. We only realize our mistakes could have easily been avoided had we given them just a little more thought. But there is no turning back now. There’s no way to save the moment.

All of this for a girl. Who would have imagined the lights would be cut off this way? To prove a point. To show off. Faster than a speeding bullet, yet even the Flash knew when to take a breather. When to take an extra second to think.

Now that it’s going this way, I’m not even sure I get what I was trying to accomplish. How could any of this have played out well?

As if time slowed down, nearly to a halt, this moment goes on forever. I see a second by second breakdown of the last plays of the game and it’s all regrettable. I was too excited. For no reason. The plan wasn’t to get laid. The plan wasn’t to make her fall in love. I don’t know what the plan was, but now it’s fucking over and there is no way to turn back. Things are upside down sometimes, mostly now.

I want to hold on to turn things around, but the weight is too much for a choice like that to be effective by any standards. It’s hopeless.

I just hope when my family discovers what happened here, they think its an unfortunate result to a calm date instead of desperately stupid choice I’ve made just because too much blood was in my dick.

It’s only three seconds in and I can feel myself sweating already. The gravity of the situation is nonstop. A one way trip downhill. At least if there was a hill I could hit the brakes and rethink things. But this isn’t that case.

I’m already covered in blood and the car is still just fresh off of the bridge. I don’t know if the people in the other car know it’s over for us. The rocky water closes in quick.