I stumbled across this post and decided to have a go using the writing prompt provided. Make sure you check it out, and maybe try it yourself. For now...enjoy.Your boat rocks back and forth, and you peer over the edge, catching a glimpse of something you thought was gone forever.
Oh no, is that what I think it is? It can't be, but it is. Right there below the boat. A dark red 1972 Dodge Charger. Rust spots the hood like automotive acne. I briefly catch sight of the Barbie doll head hung from the rear view mirror. The blonde hair floats in dark green water, caught in listless currents. A white hand still grips the steering wheel, swollen flesh pocked with fish bites. The rope binding the arms to the seat is almost rotted away.
A motorboat blasts by. The wake rocks my boat, sending splashes of cold water over my legs. The force of the wake stirs the Charger. The rope gives way and a body slumps forwards. Bill’s bloated face gazes up at me, his eyes open and accusing. The skin around his mouth hangs in strips, his jaw contorted in a grin. I scream while Bill laughs.
You can never keep a bad man down.
No comments:
Post a Comment