Member-only story
Flash Fiction
Broken Car, Broken Dreams
An old car
Samantha looked at the old Ford Pinto. It was covered with a layer of dust, grime, and pollen. The front passenger tire was flat and the hood wasn’t fully closed. The sun had bleached the color from silver to a dull gray. The Pinto looked like how she felt, old and tired.
Her left arm was heavy, weighed down by the large rock in her hand. It was a smooth river rock, about the size 5 inches in size. It wasn’t a boulder but it was big for her frail hand.
She walked around the car, noticing all the weeds that grew from under the tires and fenders. They were tall and dead, dry from the hot summer sun.
She raised the rock to her eyes and stared at two words that were written on it. The words Mom and Dad were printed in neat block letters, written in black indelible ink.
She whipped her arm back and threw the rock, with all her might, right at the windshield. With a loud crash, the rock smashed the windshield into a thousand cracks. The rock skidded across the front of the car and landed on the ground.
Samantha stood there for a moment and surveyed the scene, a dust cloud hung around the car. She turned and walked away from the old Pinto, leaving it behind with a smashed windshield and rock beside it.
