We ripped the doors off my rusty mustang, Joni and I. They came off easy, like moth wings. Sparks scattered across steel when we carved a hole in the roof, but the fire’s gone now that we’re rocketing faster than light itself. As we fly over asphalt mirages, the roaring wind rips away Joni’s manic screams. Speeding in a dilapidated car, we run from belts and locked doors and accusations of sin.
When the time is right, I take the exit to nowhere. The toll fee is one sharp turn and your whole future. We pay the price gladly, foolishly unafraid.
Glenn Bowman says
Great story, Lauren. This reads like Run From the Devil.
Davena O' Neill says
Beautiful writing and imagery
Rosemary Reader and Writer says
Great imagery, Lauren.