- I’m in a car, a key in my hand. It’s not to the car, though.
There’s another car on the left. It’s spotted with dirt. It hasn’t been driven in a long, long time.
Is someone there?
The headrest is inches above my head. I dropped the key, so I pick it up.
Someone’s there.
The key is pretty. Old, and carved to show wings and the sky. There’s a thin rope for a handle. I hold it up so the rope untwists. I put my arm down.
Who’s there?
I’m getting out of the car. My feet are bare, and the gravel-dust under them rises with the fear in my throat. There’s a fence with a gate, framing the sun and guarding nothing but some prairie grasses. I don’t know if it’s worth going. My feet tense. I should go.
No. Look back at the other car.
It’s a girl. Her lips are pressed together and her eyes are big and round.
I step back. So does she. What? She can’t walk in a car’s passenger seat. I step sideways.
She’s gone. I step back, and the windshield stretches my reflection and it’s still the girl, but she’s different.
I grip my key. I swing my arm forward and the key flies, ripping through the thin breeze. Cracks erupt from the key’s point on the other car’s windshield and I can almost feel the texture of the bent glass, the paper-thin layers of sand and heat, and the whitened shards, broken and proud.
I turn around and start running.
---
Review, please. What's unclear? What's your interpretation of it? Is the title good? Please, say whatever comes to mind. I'm submitting this to a show at my school and I'd like it to be the best I can make it.
<3RUFU