It was an instantaneous surge of cold and slashing frothy currents. Barbra had misjudged crossing the small bridge and in a moment her car was washed over the side. She deftly exited through the window and grabbed with flailing arms at a square wooden beam that protruded from the rock bridge base. Her salvation was in holding onto the wood. “I can do this,” became her repeating mantra. Adrenalin flowed, she felt strong. She thought of prayer and her mother calling to her. Salvation was hers. Her body was found with hands and wrists still rigidly clutching the wooden beam.
Comments are closed.
|
"Classic"
|