accident, death, industrial
The last pylon was almost home. Tom drove it through the top, softer layers of dirt pretty smoothly. Just before it caught, it rammed into something. What, Tom didn't know, and the machine kicked back hard on him. The handle on the driver caught his left hand. He bit his lip. He would've screamed if there'd been time. But it all moved that fast. When he finally freed his hand he was surprised at the way it looked. The whole thing was light blue and the thumb didn't have any skin on it. It was bent the wrong way. He stared at it as if the hand didn't belong to him but was something newly found.
"The Pylon Driver,"
Inscape: Vol. 8:
2, Article 18.
Available at: https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/inscape/vol8/iss2/18