“Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must include a speeding car, a phone call, and a crisp, bright morning.” – Prompt I used
It was a beautiful, bright autumn sun that shone down on the wreckage. Smoke billowed from the engine and polluted the crisp air as it filtered through the crowd of onlookers who just stood there, petrified, beside their pulled-over cars.
What was once a blue Volkswagen was lying completely crushed in a ditch off the small road. Blood trickled down the sides of the window and a child crying could be heard coming from the ruin.
Someone yelled to call 9-1-1 and some of the onlookers went up to the wreckage, blindly trying anything they believed would help a hopeless cause.
Firefighters arrived at the scene twenty minutes too late, and they pried open what was once the front window to pull out the corpse of what was once a loving father.
His son was in the back seat, remarkably and miraculously unharmed aside from a small river of red streaking his blonde hair. He screamed for his daddy until his throat was raw and all he could do was cry in silent incomprehension.
The day eclipsed into darkness according to everyone on who was there that day. No one had known that the small boy was not calling for his father, but blaming him.
It had all started with a phone call on a beautiful autumn day. What could happen?