I hate overnight road trips. They’re always the same, just following a thin white broken line that stretches on forever in a blackened landscape. It draws you into the centre where darkness encroaches from the sides until…

BLOODY HELL! If I didn’t swerve that truck would have got me tonight.

Connell Wayne Regner had successfully avoided writing creatively since he wrote spontaneous lyrics to music many years ago. Although from a linguistic background, he has serendipitously succumbed to fiction after spontaneously creating bedtime stories for his children. His other dabblings can be found at paragraphplanet and wtdmagazine.wordpress.com.