The woman of antiquity continued to berate me, repeating her dirge in decibels of volume which no human throat could produce. I pulled the lights on, but the knob retreated to the off position. Narrowly missing a hairpin turn disaster, I pulled them on again and hit the high beams. The car shimmied sideways, the lights extinguished, and the last thing I saw alive was the massive tree that I hit, at 45 miles an hour. The back-end of my beloved car fishtailed around and together we all rolled down the hill; me and the old spectral woman, who continued her lament, like a scratched and warped LP. We finally came to rest, upside down, against a low stone wall. I had already died, somewhere during the tumble.
Tales Off the Cuff
