The Starving Activist is the sometimes-home for words. AR Neal (that’s me) finds them, cultivates them, and leaves them here. Enjoy.

Christopher's Write Now! Prompt for January 22, 2013: Wake Up Time

Here is my submission to this week's prompt:Wow--Plane's on the ground. My cross-country trip has been successful. Next comes the whirlwind of things that have to happen: shuttle, car rental, stop to visit relatives. I keep it brief after the long trip. It's time to pick up Grandma and head to the resort to check in.I am settled in and resting while Grandma transforms into the matriarch who will cook for me, feed me, and wash the dishes; she cares for me with love. It's been over a year or more since we've seen each other in person. Physically being there is great; phones are fine, but being so far away from family has a way of taking a toll.Class reunion: the purpose for this trip. As I prepare to meet the former classmates, a myriad of thoughts run through my mind. Dressed and ready, I head out. I travel southward down the Jersey Shore; my rental is nice but in need of gas now. I turn off the highway to refuel. At the base of the exit there is a traffic light that turns red just before I get there. All is well as the cross traffic flows by.Suddenly, on the opposite side of the intersection is a fierce crash. Someone blew through a red light and catches an SUV making a left turn. Horrified at the scene just witnessed, I feel time stand still. Cross traffic continues to go by; it seemed like an eternity. I need to help, I thought. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick: the seconds went by. All you have is ten seconds and the light will change; you can render assistance! Green light: I pull to the curb and run over. I find the elderly woman encased in air bags, stunned but not seriously injured; her door is open and she is out of her seatbelt, but the airbags keep her pinned inside. An off-duty state trooper happens onto the scene and immediately takes control of the rescue effort.Bystanders from the area offer a kitchen knife to cut through the now-deflated bags to aid in freeing this woman. One strap at a time we carve a way for her to be free. She talks to us at this time: "I had the light! I-I-I...was listening to my Gospel CD and then..."Release. She is free, and begins giving praise to the Lord for sparing her life. At this moment I pray with her too. The experience was overwhelming, and I still had a reunion to attend.Ambulances arrive and the flurry of activity consumes the scene. I take a back seat and slowly return to my car. I have somewhere to be. I stop for gas and all I can think of is what I just witnessed. I never asked her name or gave her mine.You have ten seconds to make a difference: Ten seconds to touch someone in profound ways.The truth of the matter is, every second counts.Use them well.

Friday Fictioneers: The Beach Trip

The Hobart in Blue