Matt Shaw: A Sting in the Tale: A Collection of Short Stories

#dontwishlifeaway

Driving through the main part of the city, traffic was already building up. The congestion wasn’t helped by the fact the rain had started beating down heavily, causing all cars to slow to a near stop. As Tina sat at the back of yet another traffic jam — with cars piling up behind her, also queuing, she knew she was in for a rough ride home. If the centre of town was already bad, there would be a good chance that the motorway would also be backing up too. She closed her eyes momentarily and wished herself away from the jam, instead picturing herself in the bath that she so longed for. In her picture, a tidy little bottle of red was on the floor — within easy reach — and a glass (full) was already in hand. A warm, soaking flannel placed across her forehead as she laid there with her eyes closed. The driver behind hit his horn — a long, loud blast pulling Tina back to the dull reality of evening rush-hour. She opened her eyes — sighed — and drove up to the back of the car in front. She didn’t know why the driver behind was so keen for her to move. It wasn’t as though they could get much further.

#wishfulthinking

Although Tina knew she wasn’t going to be the only one to have the idea — she decided that, as soon as the turning came up, she’d take the back way home. It was a little longer but the (usually) quiet country roads at least let you get to a decent speed and stay there whereas, on the motorway, there were usually tail-backs regardless of the weather. It just so happened that bad weather made things worse because, nine time out of ten, some idiot would slide into someone else because they hadn’t left enough of a gap between vehicles. As soon as that happened, the thirty minute journey home could turn into over an hour’s worth of travel time. At least.

#learntodrive

I I

Twenty minutes passed and Tina hadn’t made much progress. Her happiness at finishing work was quickly turning into a feeling of resentment. She resented the weather, she resented the traffic — both at fault for eating into her ‘free’ time. The time she could spend in the bath was getting shorter if she wanted to really make the most of her evening with mindless rubbish on the television and her take-away.

Why did the traffic always have to be worse when going home? Why did it have to make you late for your free time? She couldn’t help but feel she must have really pissed someone of authority off in a previous life. The traffic was never bad enough to make her late for the morning start. Only ever for going home.

#lifesucks

What made it more frustrating was that she could see the turning she needed to take — a few hundred yards away. The cars weren’t moving anywhere fast and yet hardly any traffic seemed to be headed down the road she wanted. More than that — not many vehicles were coming out from the turning either which suggested that particular route was quiet.

“Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, desperate to be able to get to the turning. Once she was driving down that road — so long as it was as quiet as it appeared — she knew she’d be on the way to getting home at a semi-decent hour. Still hope for that hot bath and glass of wine yet, she thought.

Slowly she watched as the cars passed by the turning — most sticking to the same route. She couldn’t help but wonder whether they knew something that she didn’t know. Maybe the road was closed further down? Maybe they could see that — a little further down the road — it was also at a standstill? Whatever — it had to be better than this. This was just painful. Not forgetting also that it was an excellent indication as to how the motorway would be. Another thought popped into her head; maybe they didn’t know the back route as she did? It was definitely a little more twisty-turny than the standard route and — as mentioned before — it was slightly longer. That on top of the fact that it was easy to get lost if you didn’t know the route properly — maybe people were put off? Thank God her sister, Joanne, showed her the route all those months ago when they went to the shops together; a cheeky little trip to make the most of the discount Joanne got for working at the supermarket.

“Where are you going?” she had asked Joanne as she suddenly turned off the main route home.

She flicked the indicator lever and the light started flickering to the left. The cars stopped moving once more — a final fuck you from the traffic Gods before allowing Tina to be on her way. She sighed heavy. The ‘thump-thump’ noise of the windscreen wipers, the heavy beating of the rain on the windscreen, the occasional car horn sounding off out of frustration and now the tick-ticking of the indicators.

Tina screamed out loud; a noisy way of releasing the slow-building stress bubbling around the insides of her body. She put her head in her hands and screamed again — the damned frustration of not being able to get home. She looked up. Her scream hadn’t scared the traffic out of the way. She was still stuck.

#Godhatesme

Tina was finally able to breath a sigh of relief as she turned the corner. No cars in front of her, she put her foot to the pedal and started to relax. Finally — the feeling of making progress came over her. A far better feeling than the irritating frustration of feeling stuck to the spot.

The speed limit was thirty miles per hour and Tina was soon doing forty, despite it being a residential area. She didn’t care. Now, the only thing she cared about was getting home and going by the car behind her — practically sitting on her rear bumper — she wasn’t the only one to be in a hurry.

She eased off the accelerator a little. If she suddenly had to slam on her brake there was no way the person behind her would be able to stop in time. She muttered under her breath, it was idiots like these who tended to cause traffic black spots; all because they were in a hurry and accidentally drove into someone. The driver behind responded to her slight braking by sounding his horn in frustration. Tina muttered again and flicked the indicator down. The light on her vehicle warning the driver behind that she was about to pull to the side of the road. She accelerated a little — to give herself room to breathe — and then pulled up against the kerb, giving the car behind ample room to get by. She jumped as the driver wasted no time in speeding past her, sounding the horn as he did so.

#roadwarrior

Tina responded by hitting her own horn and screaming, “Fuck you!” at the driver, despite there being no chance for them to hear her. It just made her feel good, as though justice had been served. It didn’t matter to her that no one else knew justice had been dished out; it was strictly for her own benefit and amusement. Also, it was good stress relief — just as screaming at the top of her lungs had been when she was stuck in the motionless traffic. Still — that wasn’t how she usually dealt with people riding her arse like that. Usually — with idiots like that — she liked to slow right down to at least five miles per hour under the speed limit, just to annoy them more than necessary. The only reason she hadn't this time was because she was in a hurry to get home herself and — with visibility so poor, it would have been asking for trouble.

She waited a minute or so by the side of the road with the indicator still ticking in the background. Just long enough to give her heart a chance to calm down after being made to jump. And then — when feeling calmer — she pulled away and hit the road once more. She accelerated up to a steady speed — still higher than the enforced limit. The driver once behind and now in front — had all but disappeared with only the faint glow of his lights illuminated in the heavy downpour further down the road. The car disappeared around the next bend.