Writing Prompt: You are slowly running out of oxygen, but you have a smartphone with you. What are the last words you write? (I didn’t completely follow the prompt, but it is the foundation for my short story) Here goes!
I can’t typically hold my breath any longer than the next person, but with adrenaline surging through my body, flowing through my veins, I’ve found that changes. Because when you’re trapped inside a waterlogged vehicle on the river bottom, and only a few miles away your family awaits your arrival, your body fights for the unreal, for the impossible. I’ve been here at least a couple minutes now, although it seems like it’s been hours, and my chest feels like a balloon that’s on the verge of bursting. I struggle to keep that precious oxygen residing there.
I had been driving fifty-five down this narrow counrty road, singing along to the radio, when a deer leapt from the treeline just before a bridge. I swerved to avoid a collision and, to my horror, careened into the river. At this time of year, the waters are up and the current is swift, and for a short amount of time, my car was carried with the flow. But once it started filling with water, it sank like a rock. I had tried to open the door, but it was stuck, and the window wouldn’t roll down. I soon found myself with the opportunity for only one more breath. I inhaled deeply before my head went under.
For about a minute, I beat on the window, trying to break it, but the water impeded my momentum and I couldn’t build up enough force. I jiggled the door handle again, kicked against the door, the windshield, but it was all to no avail. As I sank down into one of the seats, my hair calmly floating around my face, I had only one thought: “I’m going to die.” You’d think that with that thought, I’d release what little air I had left, close my eyes, and submit to death; but the survival instinct is quite influential it seems. Even though death was inevitable, I was not ready for it just yet.
So now I’m here, air bubbles slipping past my lips as I stare out the windshield at the murky waters surrounding me. I feel…numb. Is this how everybody feels before their life is taken from them? The water is cold, but I don’t mind. I close my eyes and relax. Another air bubble escapes…
A harsh light glares across my eyelids and I open my eyes to see my phone very alive beside me, flashing a text on its screen: Where r u? I forgot I had gotten one of those waterproof smartphones about a month ago. An idea forms in my mind.
I grab the phone, tap on the email icon, then press “Compose” and add all contacts to my recipient list. My thumbs fly across the keypad as I desperately try to say all I can in the time I have left. My lungs begin to burn from lack of oxygen, but I ignore that and hit “Send.” My heart beats harder and faster as I wait. Please, please, please. A white box pops up in the middle of the screen, black type reading, Sent succesfully. I sigh, releasing the last of my air, and I watch the bubbles float up and out through a crevice in the sun roof. I close my eyes…
Yes, readers, that is my conclusion. I allow you to be mad at me, but before you get too angry, I urge you to think harder about those ending sentences. Or maybe, you’ve been thinking too hard. 😉 The ending may not be as depressing as it seems…
Your blogger friend,