It was Friday night after the big game, rain coming down like a monsoon. Thunder clapped; bolts of lightning shot to the ground. I couldn’t see a thing on the stretch of muddy road. The rain pinged against the car like bullets. I couldn’t be late getting home or my father would kill me for breaking my curfew. In my haste I forgot how sharp the turn was. The car slid; a power pole loomed. Last thing I heard was squealing brakes and a huge crash.
I was late getting home after all, but was on time for my funeral.
My friends call me Joe, I am 44 years old, born and raised in the valley of Dalton Georgia. I have a beautiful wife of sixteen years who loves and supports me. I work a full-time job, second shift. I have two fur babies, a cat named T Kitty, and a dog named Midnight, he is part beagle part tree walker coon hound.