Photo prompt by me, Tim Livingston, The Forester Artist.
Bobby’s fist pounded against the metal above him. “LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT”, he yelled at the top of his lungs. His words were drowned out by to roar of the engine. Light filtered through the seams. After some time, the ride became rougher and dust began seeping into the trunk. He coughed and pounded against the metal.
The car, his car, finally began slowing. He heard branches scraping the sides, and with a loud thud it stopped. There was nothing but silence, and the smell of dust and hot brakes.
The creaking of a door snapped him back into the moment. He pounded frantically, “Come on, you had you’re big laugh, OPEN UP, OPEN UP!” A door slammed shut and a cold voice replied, “That was my baby sister, ya jerk.” “I’M SORRY, I’M SO SORRY”, Bobby cried.
Moments later, another car motor started, and then quickly faded away. Bobby lay in dark trunk whimpering.