I’ve been away too long, lost among overgrown untravelled paths this last while with no fiction in my mind nor fingertips.  But I’ve found my way back to this favourite spot – Friday Fictioneers.  It’s where storytellers gather to tell their tales of 100 words or so according to a photo prompt.  We are hosted by our gracious host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple.  Here is my tale of 99 words.

The glare of headlights nearly blinded her.  She clung onto the steering wheel with all her might, willing the car to stay the course.  Horns honked and blared.  She willed herself not to scream.  Everything was coming at her every which way.  What kind of nightmare was she in?  Was she sleeping or awake?

She remembers going down this road so many times.  Oh, how she wishes she could forget. Memory lane is not what it is cracked up to be.  Where’s the champagne and balloons? Where’s the laughter?  Where’s John Travalta singing Staying Alive?  Where’s……Oh my  God, Nooo!