Flying Roses

I haven't written a new short story for a while so it feels good to be sharing Flying Roses with you today. Inspired by a simple photograph I wasn't sure where this story would go, but in the end the characters led the way and while my stories are usually longer I think the shorter form works better here. I hope you enjoy Flying Roses.

Flying Roses

The car tore down the road, swerving from left to right. It ripped through colourful shrubs on one side of the road, swerved, then headed for the black lamp post with flowers cascading from a tray below the light. It swerved again but didn’t slow. Pastel coloured houses, blues, pinks, and yellows, rushed past in a blur as Carrie tried to control the car with one hand and the bleeding with the other.

Lisa, slumped in the driver’s seat, clutched her stomach and blood oozed through their fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up. We’re going to get there.” Carrie said.

“Caz… I…”

Lisa’s eyelids drooped and her head lolled.

“Lis? C’mon Lisa, don’t do this to me now!”

Lisa opened her eyes and looked at Carrie.

“Get… the… money… go…”

“I’m not leaving you here. We’re in this together.”

“Won’t… make… it…”

“Yes, you will. Just hold on!”

“Money… go…”

Her voice trailed off.

Carrie glanced at the back of the car. Six beige bags sat on the back seat, five upright. One bag had shifted, spilling notes onto the seat and the floor of the car. They fluttered about as wind rushed by. Some stuck to the blood-soaked guns behind the passenger seat.

Carrie ignored the money and looked back at her friend. The friend who had got her into this mess, sure, but the friend who had stuck by her through everything. Her parents’ divorce. Her childhood battle with cancer. Her first break up, and her last. She was her best friend, her partner in crime. 

Carrie watched Lisa’s eyes open and close and forced her foot harder onto the pedal.

The car whined and sped up. A mile, maybe two, and they’d make it. Lisa would be in a hospital, they could save her. She watched the road, keeping one eye on Lisa and urging the car to go faster.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lisa’s body go limp.

“Lisa! No!”

She let go of the steering wheel and planted both hands on Lisa’s stomach.

“We’ll make it. Just hol-“

The car crashed through a peach coloured house. Roses torn from their stems flew by the window. The bags in the back of the car leapt forward, spilling money into the air. A sofa, split in two by the car, careened past the windows on both sides. Metal screeched, and glass shattered. Carrie, thrown from her seat, barrelled through the windscreen as her friend lurched forward and slumped on the dashboard.

Their bodies lay bloodied and limp. Carrie’s left arm rested on the hood of the car, the rose tattoo on the inside of her wrist pointing up to the sky. Lisa’s arms reached out for Carrie, her matching rose tattoo covered in blood.

Crumbled bricks settled. 

Money and leaves drifted to the ground. 

A siren whined in the distance.