THE GETAWAY • by Jeff Switt

You ignore the NO PARKING sign and drive our aging mini-van behind the dumpster swelling with trash. “Wait here,” you tell me, like I have somewhere to go. You limp toward the motel office. Your ankle’s stiff from the drive.  I pull a cigarette from your pack, then crumble it out the window. I’m two months pregnant.

Three days on the run. No money for motels you said. You drive during the day. I drive at night. Safer for me you said, since I don’t have a license yet.

The motel doesn’t take credit cards, and we don’t have one. I hope you have enough cash. I need a shower. You pound on the side of the van and toss me the room key. “Get the bags,” you bark. The brass key’s worn and looks older than you. Its turquoise tag says Room 23, and if someone finds it, drop it in any mailbox.

I slide the van door and grab your bag, red canvas with a faded Marlboro logo. The zipper’s broken. I see the butt of your pistol among your clothes. I tell myself, maybe later. I shoulder your bag. And mine — a handbag I swiped from a booth at Denny’s yesterday morning. It holds everything I own. We get to our room.

Your hands shake, and you tell me to go to the liquor store next door for a pint of Jack. I tell you that I don’t have any fuckin’ money for your liquor. I watch as you dig a ten out of your wallet. I hesitate, and you ask what the hell I’m looking at.

I sulk across the parking lot. It’s over a hundred, and my clothes are soaked with sweat. The clerk laughs when I hand him your ten and ask for a pint of Jack.  He leers at my braless chest, so I lift my shirt and show him. I leave with a half-pint of vodka.

I get back to the room, and you’re curled on the bed, sweating worse than me. You cuss when you see the vodka. Your fingers struggle to twist the cap, and when you do, you gulp. Your stomach revolts, and you puke in the trash can. The second time, you sip. Your face contorts to the vodka burn. I hand you a package of orange cheesy crackers I swiped from the liquor store and head to the bathroom for a shower. You don’t say thank-you.

I wash my panties as I shower and lay them on the window sill to dry. There’s no rod or curtain.  There’s no hot water, but in this heat that’s okay. Cold water floods my face. The tiny bar of soap smells wonderful as I wash my pits, my hair. I give my teeth a finger brush, wanting some toothpaste, and I slip on the same jeans and T-shirt.

There’s only one bed, a double, and I lie down at the edge away from you, listening to the rumble of the window unit as it struggles to cool the room.

An hour earlier we cased a local diner and ate grilled cheese sandwiches. You figured it an easy job. Lots of cash at closing time. A couple of waitresses and a beefy tattooed cook in the kitchen who owns the place. In and out in two minutes, top, you said.

You look at me lying on my back, mumble thanks for the crackers, and reach your orange stained fingers for my breasts. I slap your hand away. You laugh and return to your bottle. I need a Dr Pepper and head for the manager’s office.

I return with my soda, and see you fiddling with your revolver, a .38 special.  You spin the cylinder and put it to your temple. You give me a “dare me” look, and before I can decide how to answer, you pull the trigger.


You point it at me.


You laugh and reach in your bag for a half-full box of bullets and load the gun. You tell me to wake you at seven-thirty. My watch says six. You chug the rest of the vodka, and in five minutes you’re snoring.

I think about the gun. Think about doing you right here. Instead, I head back to the manager’s office and watch some TV with his wife. She took a liking to me. I chat her up, talking about kids. Family. I start to cry and ask to use her phone. Got to call my momma, I tell her.

I check my watch and return to wake you. Your wallet’s on the table. I peek inside it, shocked at all the green. I pull a hundred. Liar. I pull another. Bastard. I kick the bed, and wake you up. We grab our things, and at eight we’re in the van. This time I’m driving.

You tell me where to stop. “Just sit here with the motor running, and I’ll do the rest. Think you can handle that?” It’s more of a statement than a question.  You’ve never cared what I thought. I nod my head.

You get out and tuck the .38 in your waist. I watch in the rear-view as you enter the cafe. I sit behind the wheel and pull a smoke from your pack. I suck the first drag and blow a smoke ring out the open window and wipe my sweaty hands on my thighs.

By now you’re pulling the .38 and demanding the money.  I turn on the radio, searching for some tunes. I hear the distinct sound of shotgun fire. Once. Twice.

It wasn’t momma I called from the motel office. It was the cafe. Momma died when I was eight.

I try to imagine what you look like, dead on the floor, and for a moment I hope it was merciful. I pull the last of your smokes from the pack and fire it up. I turn toward Texarkana and drive. It’s getting dark.

Jeff Switt likes to read and write. This is his fifth story published at Every Day Fiction.

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 average 4.2 stars • 46 reader(s) rated this

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  • Jeff, your stories are so gritty – I like that.

    One of the many drawbacks of second person POV is failing to get the reader to feel the character. In this case, for me I did not get into the “You” of the story and only loosely could relate to the pregnant woman.

    The first few paragraphs feel strained to be second person. It really feels like this was written to be first person and second person POV at the same time.

    I believe that if this story was presented in first person only, it would have come off better to me.

    Thanks for the story.

    • Thank you, Ward. This was a bit of an experiment for me. I felt the second person approach increased the intensity of the story. I wanted something different than a first person approach, which cold have easily been done. And I resisted, as the EDF editors suggested, telling it in first.

      • One of the wonderful things of this art, writing. It is often the experimental that grows us.

        • We’re either growing or wilting, right?

      • Carl Steiger

        Normally I hate second-person, but I myself am glad you resisted changing it to first. It worked well for me, if not for Ward.

        • Thanks again, Carl. From the original draft running through my thoughts, I never considered a more traditional approach.

  • Darius Bott

    You’re so badass, you probably think this comment’s about you.

    The writing is good, the story is okay, but, for me, the second person technique worked on the tale like blows from a leaden pipe. In my readerly ear, all those you’s and your’s were too warm and breathy.

    The times I’ve seen the second-person work (Nabokov springs to mind) – its use has been very subtle or deliberately arch and comic. Otherwise things get too up-close and creepy.

    • Thank you, Darius. Warm (hot) and breathy and close-up and creepy was what I was after. I knew I was in danger writing with this POV, and of nearly universal dislike for the style, but as I told Ward, it was an experiment.

      I’m not all that badass. 🙂

      • Darius Bott

        It’s interesting how second-person is fine in a song but perilous in a story. I think it’s to do with the already very close relationship that exists between the author and the reader – the second-person breaks the barely-existent fourth-wall in too intimate a way — not that I’m knocking an intimate encounter with such a fine looking beard, Jeff – just not while I’m trying to read, dammit!

        • Thank you for making me laugh!

      • weequahic

        The experiment worked, worked well. A shame you can’t repeat it (that is, repeat it well), unwritten law. [A voice out there just said the law’s been broken. I’ll look into it.]

  • Paul A. Freeman

    I enjoyed this. Only gripe is the penultimate paragraph. Only the first of the three sentences was necessary, or “It was the cafe I called from the motel.”

    • Thank you, Paul. I couldn’t simply leave her sitting in the car. The girl deserved some resolution. And so did the readers.

  • James Hadley Chase Fan

    Neat story, well told.
    Not too keen on the second person/first person style. I felt that was a bit of a gimmick, too clever by half, but at the same time it made the story stand out, get noticed.
    Loved the ending – the miserable, lying, penny-pinching git got what he deserved !

    • Thank you, James. I realized responses would be a mixed bag. I appreciate your comment, “it made the story stand out.” That was the intent. Was it a gimmick? Perhaps. As I said elsewhere. it was an experiment.

      • James Hadley Chase Fan

        On the strength of your story, I have just looked at the first chapter of Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City. I guess you are familiar with this novel? It is generally considered the “classic” of second person POV.

        Second person is hard to do, and I think your experiment was a success – it certainly got published by EDF which is a definite sign of editorial approval. It is not as if they are short of submissions.

        And having graced my comment with a nom de plume suitable for any fan of crime fiction, I am now off to re-read a James Hadley Chase novel, top of the pile being Strictly for Cash.

        I look forward to reading more of your work.

        • Thanks again, James. I have 4 other stories here at EDF, easily searchable by my name.

  • I honestly made it about two lines in and realized the perspective and closed my phone. After coffee I took a half cup I tried again and I must say it was a fun story.

    Even though I initially thought I would skip this one, I am giving it a solid four.

    • Thank you Michael for giving it a fighting chance.

  • S Conroy

    I enjoyed this a lot. In the beginning I made the typical mistake – nothing to do with the writing – of assuming the MC and the author were the same sex. But once I’d readjusted, I found the 2nd person POV worked well and I certainly didn’t see that ending coming.

    • Thank you Ms Conroy. I think it a goal of all writers to have a recognized tone and style. Your comment made my day.

  • monksunkadan

    Jeff, all I can give you is that, as a reader,this story was right on every count. That’s all I am, just a reader. Thanks for a GREAT read. Most enjoyable. I really liked this
    tale and thank you for your Art.

    • Thank you, monksunkaden. To be appreciated by a “reader”is indeed a gift.

  • Carl Steiger

    Like Michael Dirk Thalman, I didn’t think I’d read this after I saw that it was in second person. Then I skipped to the comments and was persuaded to come back to the story. You need a lot of justification to make a second-person story work for this reader, but I have no trouble at all imagining these words running through the MC’s mind.

    • Thank you, Carl. I wrote the girl as one detached from life as well as the man she was with. Pregnant and underage and in a hopeless situation, she was able to move on.

    • But, who needs a double “N” anyway?

  • Gale Davis

    Jeff, I’ve missed your work – and Ann’s Blog. Got hooked on Street Photography as my artistic outlet. I’m fairly sure that you are the one responsible for me following Every Day Fiction every morning. I won’t be critiquing here, just letting you know that I enjoyed this dark little ditty, and will be looking for more Switt down the road. – GaleLikeTheWind.

    • Thank yoy, Gale. I’ve often wondered what happened to yoy and so many other regulars there.

  • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

    Not a genre or mood or voice that I enjoy encountering, so I can’t vote. But the mastery of the writer never fails me.

    • Thank you, Sarah. “Mastery” is a strong word and a hellova compliment which I will accept with grace.

  • Rose Gardener

    Too often second person POV is used as a cheap shot to create suspense and then all it does is irritate, but here it seemed to be employed as a voyeuristic technique. It distanced me from the character emotionally so I was able to eavesdrop on her thoughts with complete impartiality. This calm overview was reflected in the character’s controlled and measured actions and if that was intentional it was clever.
    The author reports in another comment he thought it increased the intensity of the story and though I disagree with that assessment, I do think it captures something of the character’s mental resilience and was therefore a good choice which enhances this particular scene. I like to credit authors with instinctively knowing when they’ve found the correct ‘voice’ of a piece, even if it isn’t achieving the effect they hoped/intended. 🙂

    • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

      I often disagree with your assessments but I thought you were brilliant here, especially since this is a type of story I can’t find a way into.

    • Thank you, Rose. I appreciate your comments. This story of less than 1000 words was two years in the making, trying to get everything just right.

  • Michael Snyder

    Cool story. And as an avid fan of literary southern noir, I am drawn to these types of characters. I’m also a fan of Lorrie Moore who, inasmuch as it’s possible, has mastered the 2nd Person POV thing. I’ve written my fair share as well and they can get pretty slippery at times.

    What tripped me up a bit here was that much of this tale is in 1st as well, which had me stopping and thinking writerly thoughts instead of staying rooted in the story world. Of course, that could very well be a function of my own particular literary baggage. I did catch myself “rewriting” bits of the story as I read along, with the girl in 1st and referring to a nameless “him.”

    I like the fact that it’s a complete story (beginning, middle, and end) all told within the 1,000 word format…not always an easy thing to pull off. Nice work, Jeff.

    • Thank you, Michael. The internal editor can wreak havoc on my enjoying a story unless it is powerfully strong. I like that term “literary Southern noir.” I have a tagline on my emails which reads “Either. Or. Neither noir.” I’ll have to search out Lorrie Moore.

      • Michael Snyder

        I dig the tagline.

        And Lorrie Moore is an acquired taste (or at least she was for me). I’ll read one and love it and not finish the next (and yet I believe I own everything she’s written…)

        I’m reading Ron Rash’s new one now, just finished David Joy’s debut (as brutal as it is brilliant), and am hoping to reread Bull Mountain soon. Those guys tweak my inner redneck! Based on how you write, you very likely know those guys. If not…you’re welcome!

  • stamperdad

    Love the gritty, hard edged stories like this. First person or third person would have worked better though.

    • Thank you, stamperdad. Your observation about first or third person is likely spot-on, and would have been the obvious and simple way to write it. But I was intrigued with the challenge of success with the way I approached it.

  • onomas

    Jeff, I enjoyed this story, the pace, focus, urgency and pathos of it. I felt the ending was excellent.
    One item for consideration. Perhaps at the end she says, “I’m not really pregnant. I just say that to keep him away. Now I don’t have to worry about that.”

    • Thank you, onomas, for reading and your suggestion. I am not a fan of neat and tidy endings, but that’s just me.

  • James Hadley Chase Fan

    Hallo, me again! 🙂
    I like Onomas comment, but think the fact that she is pregnant is great idea – much increasing the many possibilities for a sequel…
    Imagine having that nameless couple as parents, well only one now that the mother has effectively murdered the father. Folks always say the female is deadlier than the male…
    The fact that neither character is named adds much to the emotional distance. This contrasts with the fact that we are given some very definite names for things and places in the story, eg, Marlboro logo, Dr Pepper, Denny’s, Texarkana.
    I wonder, is the title a direct reference to the 1972 film The Getaway, with Steve McQueen and Ali MacGraw, remade in 1994?

    • Hi James, again. The original title of this story was “The Lookout.” but I changed it to “The Getaway. I thought “lookout” was too passive and went with a more action-oriented title, which even took on a second meaning. I’ve never seen the movies you reference.

      • Joseph Kaufman

        “The Lookout” is also a movie title. Nothing to do with this piece, per se, but it might have diluted things…

        (I think “The Lookout” is a fantastic film.”

    • S Conroy

      Agree that she should be pregnant. I think it might be a very different story if she weren’t. The will to get out of the whole crime milieu could very well be connected to the new life growing inside her. Perhaps she wants to give the baby the kind of chances she’s never had.

  • 2nd person seems to be an issue with most of the commentators. I took it as a break through. You mentioned two years of nail hammering, and I can see why. The front paragraphs were fun to read, to figure the you and me, the rest was pure Swift. Your work makes me jump cliffs to follow where you want me to follow. Near the end I emerged not wanting it to end, but flash is flash. Thanks for jumping off your own cliff to make this work this well.

    • Thank you, Michael. Your comments have left me speechless. Something not good for a writer.

  • Camille Gooderham Campbell

    It’s not actually 2nd person POV, of course, because the point of view we’re in is presented as 1st person, with the narrator addressing the antagonist as “you”.

    • Hmm. OK. The antagonist is “you” and the protagonist is “I.”

      This is why I thought it was mixed (2nd/1rst) POV. If you replaced all of the you’s, with let’s say Glenn/he, you have a clear 1rst. With the you’s in there it reads as if the narrator/protagonist is writing directly to the antagonist not the reader. Like in a diary entry or something. That is 2nd person, right?

      1rst person POV(Definitely): Glenn takes out the garbage and sneaks a smoke, while I finish the crossword puzzle that he started.

      ? person POV(I think 2nd): You take out the garbage and sneak a smoke, while I finish the crossword puzzle you started.

      This is why I did so horribly in English when I was young. 🙂

      • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

        I think Camille is right.

        It can get complicated fast, because in writing there can be many different “you”s.

        “You” can just be a synonym for “I” when the first-person narrator presents the entire story as an interior monologue. “You” and “I” are the same. That is not happening here. (And a key to that is “you” not being privy to any other character’s thoughts. “You” can only report their actions.)

        “You” can be an omniscient narrator addressing you, a separate person, and can know the thoughts of others and tell them to you (and us). That, also, is not happening here.

        “You” can be, as here, the address of the first-person narrator to”him.” The narrator isn’t privy to anyone else’s thoughts; can only report their actions. This story is always from the narrator’s point of view and “he” could replace every “you.”

        • I wasn’t doubting her. Just trying to clarify my own limited perception of the topic. I certainly don’t have any of the initials behind my name to qualify me at all.

          Thanks for the examples. The last one there is exactly what I was saying in my comment. In my examples above, the you-laden sentence would likely be in a 1rst person POV then.

          Gnarly, this writing thing. 🙂

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            An understanding of grammar is not my forte; in my own writing I just try to find a plausible rhythm of expression and avoid seriously egregious errors. I think pleasing our HS English teachers and reaching the reader are often two highly-antagonistic goals.

          • Michael Snyder

            “I think pleasing our HS English teachers and reaching the reader are often two highly-antagonistic goals.”

            I just thought this was worth repeating. I’ll take rhythm and texture and authenticity over grammar any day.

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            I think you are definitely enriching the already heady atmosphere around here…

          • Darius Bott

            Is “pleasing our HS English teacher” antagonistic to “reaching the reader”, or preliminary? Like you, my knowledge of grammar is ad hoc, picked up by reading, not learning. But the learning process, whether by self or teacher, is still essential if you want to develop a style and reach the reader. The old rule is true: breaking the rules only works if you first know the rules.

            Judging by the way some of the bright young people I know express themselves in words, I’d have thought our HS English teacher could do with a bit more pleasing. I certainly know a lot of people (myself included) who wish they had a more solid knowledge of grammar.

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            The difference between competent professional writing–to navigate everyday life, employment, higher education, etc. and creative writing that comes alive is to abandon lessons and leap into truthfulness. We’re not talking about high schoolers here.

          • Darius Bott

            I don’t think I’ve ever read a story and thought, gee, I wish the writer would abandon her grammar lessons. I HAVE thought, I wish the writer would abandon her night-school creative writing lessons. Style, I would grant you, can’t be taught – but the basics must be (w)rote-learned.

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            I wholeheartedly agree with you about those creative writing lessons. They rarely involve creativity.

            And I’ve no lingering hatreds for my HS English teachers–or at least not most of them. But none of them did me any good by telling me what an excellent writer I was–someone who composed excellent prose–because I ended up needing most of the first part of my lifetime working up the courage to leap off of that solid foundation and, you know, actually beginning to write.

            So, yeah. We want our HS teachers to do their jobs. Then we need to find some fire, and ignite something with it.

          • Darius Bott

            The one useful skill I picked up in high school was touch-typing. She was a dragon-lady, walked around the class with a cane and rapped any knuckles not hovering at perfect qwerty. It was tedious, boring (and, I guess, today, illegal), but I’ve used that skill all my life. I wish, in retrospect, my much more “fun” english teacher had been the same.

            Maybe if your teacher had been some harsh old biddy who drove you to tears of boredom with grammar lessons, you’d have been leaping soon and higher! 🙂 But I agree, when it gets to the important stuff, no one’s helping you find that fire – and when you do they’ll only strap you to a rock and rip your liver out, so there’s never any rush…

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            I guess my horror of grammar arises from those long-before HS years of diagramming sentences, and stuff. Though I am not yet suffering from dementia, I cannot name or define all the parts of speech, even if you were to threaten me with the last part of the above. So I just have to sort of wing it by ear, so to speak…

          • The Suzuki method of writing…

          • The Suzuki method of writing…

          • Joseph Kaufman

            Sarah, I got BS degrees in Mathematics and Physics at the undergraduate level, and I was long the disdainer of softer sciences and things like, ugh, my goodness, litera-ture (hard “t” on the final syllable) and, hurm, well, writing.

            I’m bonkers in the other direction now, well-pleased if my daughters count well but am much more interested in telling them stories. It might just be paying off. Just this evening, my eldest daughter called me out while playing a completely made up alien-vs-astronaut game, saying, “Daddy, no. You need to be shooting slime at the good guys. Your story doesn’t have any trouble in it.”

            As you might imagine, I immediately put on my “slime” gloves and made damn sure her arrival on planet Slimopia was a grim one.

          • Joseph Kaufman

            I so entirely disagree. I have never displeased any of my HS English teachers. Rhythm is not mutually exclusive with grammar/rule, not in my opinion.

            If you want complete laissez-faire (grammatical) style, perhaps you have been short-changing yourself with regard to poetry?

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            Joe: Sorry if I didn’t express clearly what I meant to convey.

            Of course it is essential to good communication to learn and recognize the appropriate use of grammar. And at some point I clearly must have learned the essentials. But I can’t really explain them, and I’d never be able to tutor someone who needed to learn concrete facts of English usage.

            But I can spot like a laser what is, and is not, a good sentence; in my working life I was an excellent editor of the prose of others. But I can’t explain the technicalities of *why* something’s right or wrong. I just know.

            I can pick up the rhythms of a foreign language and learn enough to communicate in real life. But I struggle terribly in formal instruction (like HS French) because I could never master the technical terms. So if you tell me I need to use the past perfect subjunctive rather than the whatever, I’m in hopelessly lost despair.

            I’ve been blessed with a good ear for rhythm and cadence and flow. And of course I know how to use tenses even fi I can’t name the more exotic ones, Like “I hope I shall have hereby dispelled confusion about my intent…”

          • Paul A. Freeman

            Future perfect tense with ‘shall’.

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            About poetry, Joe–Marie Ponsot thought I was pretty good at it. But I can only write it when I’m completely miserable.

            Better off enjoying life and sticking to prose.

        • Michael Snyder

          The best fiction will always (check that: usually) break the rules. And the writer that knows grammar will likely have a better command of when and how to break them…but not always.

          I was a musician long before I started writing. I’ve learned all the rules from two prestigious music schools. But the best musicians I know learn everything they can about theory in the woodshed. But when it’s time to play (or compose), the “rules” are out the window.

          With writing, I tend to use the rules diagnostically. When a passage doesn’t work, I first check to make sure I’m telling the truth. Oftentimes, if it’s not a style or voice (or character or story) problem, I’ll check the grammar and see if that’s the culprit. And occasionally it is.

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            I’m not saying that we should all aspire to be rough primitive sweaty sons and daughters of the soil, bursting forth in our unfettered genius and marching on Manhattan to take the literati by storm.

            I am saying, that based on my own experience just reading, and noting authors’ bios and blurbs, that the proud grads of writing seminars and world-famous writing workshops are mostly (not always, but mostly) writing soulless pieces of dead cardboard, and the most incredible stories come from elsewhere.

          • S Conroy

            Ah what a shame! I would love to be a rough primitive sweaty son or daughter of the soil, bursting forth in unfettered genius and marching on Manhattan to take the literati by
            storm, now that you mention it.

          • Could make an interesting bio 🙂

          • S Conroy

            :-). (And noone would know it was 100% plagiarism.)

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            Let “Youngblood Hawke” be thy cautionary example…

          • S Conroy

            I googled. Rock band scuba-diving with sharks?

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            Nah. Herman Wouk novel (and excruciating film made therefrom…)

          • S Conroy

            Oops. Not gone yet. That guy is 101 and sounds quite interesting. Is the novel worth reading?

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            I’d say it’s very much of its time–which wasn’t the best of literary times, I think. A lot of those authors had one great book in them, and then a lot of drivel. But that’s why God made libraries–so we can experience these things without financial regret…

          • Joseph Kaufman

            Let’s be careful with “mostly”. (especially when finishing that with hyperbolic phraseology involving “dead cardboard”).

            Superlatives don’t really serve much in terms of meaningful dialogue. None of us has any idea what works for another, and so we probably shouldn’t cast aspersions in any particular direction.

          • Sarah Crysl Akhtar

            I’ll try to gather up my aspersions and cram them back into my basket of deplorable hyperbole, which seems to leak badly and let it escape too often.

            I think you, and everyone familiar with my views, knows what I intend to convey and also that no one anywhere is compelled to give any more weight to my opinions than they may possibly merit.

            Like, this is just the way I express strong opinions…

    • Misunderstanding over second person POV or narration seems to be widespread. The two editors who gave my story an acceptance vote both commented on the story’s second person POV or narration.

      I had not intended to write second person POV or narration and was a bit confused about their comments. But heck, they’re editors, so I blindly went along with their reference, not caring what one called it.

      Non the less, it has made for interesting conversation. 🙂

      • Darius Bott

        I did wonder if there was an official title for the narration technique – obviously it was first person POV, but the second person stuff was the dogs-balls element…maybe, from now on, we’ll refer such stories as switt stories? Put it on Wikipedia and it’s a done deal.

        • Oh, my. My15 minutes of fame!

      • Camille Gooderham Campbell

        It is indeed a widespread misunderstanding… or perhaps just a misnomer, if we know well enough that the POV is 1st but don’t know what to call the technique of addressing a character in the 2nd person (I believe it’s “2nd person narration”, but that’s pretty obscure).

  • Teacher

    Damn, this kept me on the edge of my seat. Best story I’ve read so far. Thanks for writing!

  • Chris Antenen

    Great use of second person. That’s hard sometimes, and I wind up changing the POV, but you made it work for me here.
    There might be other comments, but this was good use of the flash. Action story with simple but good character development, and the all-acclaimed twist!
    Really enjoyed it and didn’t need a second read unless I wanted to pick at it. I didn’t. Gave it a 4.