This month's themes are food, something you're proud of, or your first 500 words. I chickened out of the free writing snippet I'm really proud of, but this particular snippet does include food, so this is what I decided upon in the end.
Death's rush hour always comes in shaky breaths and microwaved TV dinners that they said were good for you. The spirit called Night pulls on her bathrobe and tells him to drive carefully over the pass because Dany Bridges on Channel 8 said it would be icy. Death nods his head because even people who carry scythes need to be worried after by their wives sometimes, even if they are eternal.
Then it's the midnight hour—the battle cry for Taco Bell employees, VHS machines, and the cheerios lost under the fridge. It's their spicy smell—the little particles that agitate his nose and make it confused—that makes him know that tonight will be spent putting little girls in dumpsters out of their misery and only wishing that he could put the people who did this to them into something much worse.
There's never a bad time for bagels so he eats one while he drives, staying slow so that Night won't have to worry about where any dents in the car's frame came from. Tires jiggle, his butt vibrates as the rubber gropes the ice. He hopes the ice won't press charges.
An idiot on his left hits the bridge too fast, and in the kind of mystical slowness that happens when your fiancée walks down the aisle or you see someone take the last box of tampons from the shelf at Walgreens, his car hits the guard rails with a screech and goes over.
He should go rescue him, but Death takes another bite of his bagel. Idiot should have listened to Dany Bridges on Channel 8 and Night. Besides, it's cold out.
That shall be my only contribution for this month. Thanks to Alyssa and Emily for hosting, and here's to something more substantial next month!