You Only Live Once
Would you save a life if it meant ending your own?
“Why do you have a tattoo of a nine on your wrist?” She asks, lacing her fingers through my own.
“I dunno,” I shrug. “Been like that ever since I was born. A birthmark, I guess.”
“Oh, look at the kids!” Lila shrieks with mirth. She points to a gaggle of costumed children on the other side of the road. “Aren’t they cute? I miss trick-or-treating.”
“Me too — oh, watch out!”
The squeal of tires echoes behind us and we both swivel around at the sound. A car swerves down the middle of the road, horn blaring and smoke billowing from under the hood.
It’s out of control…and heading right for the sidewalk where the children are.
I don’t think. I act. My heart thuds inside my chest and I run, waving my arms and screaming to get their attention.
The car bears down on us.
They scream and scatter. My legs pump in double time.
I have only a second to look back across the road, and I see her face.
In my haste, the engagement ring I meant to give her fell out of my pocket. It clinks across the ground, and the last thing I see is the sparkle of the diamond in the light.
The car swerves one more time, and all is darkness.
The next thing I hear is, “Why do you have a tattoo of an 8 on your wrist?”
Here’s another spooky story for you…
Thanks for reading! ❤️