He didn’t hear the window crinkle, the glass break, or the splintering of the frame from the force which the car drove through the front door. When he turned, he didn’t smell the fuel that leaked on the carpet, soaking into the concrete underneath. All he focused on was the shape of the human under the car frame. It was twisted, almost unrecognizable. The only sign that it was Trisha was the ring on her forefinger. The silver encased emerald that signified her as an artificial intelligence’s mother.
About the Author
Jeannie Hart is a published writer, who works in diverse fields of the industry. She has had pieces published through local and national websites, indie papers, and magazines.Currently Jeannie is revising her next novel ‘Road to Revolution’. And is in the process of drafting ‘Chicago is Dead’.
Ray Bradbury sums up her current writing situation nicely, "quantity produces quality. If you only write a few things, you're doomed."
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