Drabble - The Harbinger

Her heart pounded, creating a roaring ocean in her ears. In the briefest moment, everything had shifted. The world, her entire life, was upended.

Driving to work, she was sure she’d been hit. Her surroundings spun violently, as if caught in a vortex.

As her pulse slowed, she was baffled. There’d been no crunch of metal, no screeching of rubber, no impact. Hands white-knuckled on the wheel, she caught her breath. There was no broken glass, no blood, no pain.  It was only her on this side street, alone.

The blight on her future had manifested. The affliction called vertigo.

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A drabble written a while back.

Copyright © 2011-2013 by Marie Chavez