I plan to do a series on Road Rage. This is the first story. Each story has the same beginning but different ending.
Her road rage was always a source on entertainment for most of her social network friends. For a small woman, she had a lot of fire in her. She had fury. Everyone just assumed it was her lack of patience and tolerance that made her blood boil while on her daily commute. No one considered the “combi taxis” to be the culprit because its nature was to be an asshole on the road. No one even thought that other road users contributed to the road nightmares because they could be forgiven for being jerks on the road as they could be rushing to work or home to avoid insulting reprimands from their superiors. It’s a known fact that in a household, one always dominates the other.
There was a sole cause of the rage: the road, or the distance between work and home. Only the road was to be blamed for allowing its users to utilize it without consideration and with sheer arrogance. It was the road’s fault that it allowed those without manners to use it. And there was nothing she could do about the road. Even if she yelled at it, it would not give her the satisfaction of screaming back at her. She couldn’t even hurt it. It was impervious to any pain. So, she accepted it, fists clenched and teeth gritting.
Until that one fateful day.
Instead of parking her car in the basement of her work building, she drove it on maximum speed, at inordinate excess of the city limit, flying over a bridge on to the highway below, leaving behind her a trail of errant combi taxis and wayward cars as well as defiant would-be passengers lying on the streets where they were not supposed to be crossing or waiting for the taxis.
© Anna Jailene Aguilar
Below are images of my reality. While the piece is a story (flash fiction), it really isn’t exactly fiction as it is my reality. The last paragraph is purely fictional. The question is until when? Kidding.