Other stories for this prompt

It was night time, in a fancy restaurant. We just sat down. Liana runs off and I follow. There was nothing else to do. I was bored, she'd be back in a few minutes, just in time for dinner. She runs, and runs for about five minutes, until she got to a car. She opened it somehow. It definitely wasn't the car I bought her for her sixteenth birthday, and she just had that one this morning. Could she be stealing? No way. Liana's not like that.
I followed her considering my car was only a few metres away. I...

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Where am I going? thought Harold Sunday as he sped through yet another red light. The intersection blurred behind him, he couldn't believe the sensation of time slowing the quicker he travelled. Marty McFly may have travelled through time in a DeLorean, but Harold blew him away with his long-distance journey in a Ford Focus. It may not have been as snazzy, but at least he could open the doors inside his garage - low ceiling be damned. At first, travelling faster than the speed of sound was disconcerting; his radio wouldn't even work, despite its being inside the car's...

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The white sedan zipped down the city streets, passing cars frantically, horn honking. Inside, Mark Strickland sat behind the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it. "You're gonna get us killed before we ever get there," Mary, Mark's wife, said calmly as she reached out and gently held Mark's hand, making him ease up on the hand control which regulated the gas pedal on the car. Her other hand rested lightly on her protruding stomach.

"Sorry," Mark said as he slowed the vehicle down. "I'm just anxious." His eyes lit up as he saw the hospital sign and quickly...

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I saw it passing by. It was only a glimpse, a brief glimpse, one of many taxis that I see every single day. But one thing stood out about it. I can't exactly say what, but I remembered it enough, it had left enough imprint in my mind for me to recognize it the next day. Then, I was on my way to the Tube when it zoomed by me. There was no one in it.
No one at all. The driver's seat was empty. I blinked once, hard, but by the time I opened my eyes, it...

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I rolled down my window. "Can I give you a ride somewhere?"
"Ditch the car."
"I thought you wanted a ride." I had pulled over. I'd been trying to help her out. She had green hair. Green, then, white, then medium brown at the roots, but it looked passable on her.
"You are ruining this city. This city is a tomb, because of you."
"You're a sweetheart, aren't you?"
"Fuck off."
But I was worried about her. "Hey, where's your mom?"
She didn't move. I waited. "Where's your mom?"
Frozen. I backed up, signaled, parked. It was so bright I...

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Time stopped the moment I recognized the driver. I clenched my fists and stepped back onto the curb but the car screeched to a stop and I knew he'd recognized me.

I could have run back into a building, found an exit into an alley. Instead I bolted into the middle of the street and froze on the crosswalk. My eyes met the driver's and I heard as if from a distance the honking horns and screams of cars and people.

My throbbing pulse sent cold pumps of blood through my body and my skin prickled, and my clothes dampened...

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ANONYMOUS CONFESSION. I am a car thief. This photo shows just one of the cars I stole last night. I am not just an ordinary thief. I only steal for really interesting people who do extraordinary things with them. It is a big secret but I think it is time to get a few things off my chest. I can't keep this to myself anymore as it is getting dangerous for me. I know 'they' are making plans to get rid of me as I know too much, it's just a question of when.

I have an escape route. I...

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It was like one of those stop-motion films. Or maybe it was more like that handful of pictures his mom brought out when she was drinking. Dealing out snapshots of her life as if she had a chance at a full-house when the rest of them had just folded and walked away. The one dimensional images coming faster and faster.

He remembered the phone call, running out of the apartment without a jacket, the feeling of panic. Had he even closed the door? The car, his wife waving at him from across the busy street. No, that was wrong. That...

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Going nowhere fast.

That was what her father said every time she got less than an A, or whenever she had less than three hours of homework. The fact that she played varsity soccer, with a scholarship nearly guaranteed, didn't seem to change his opinion of her.

Turned out he was right. In the second-to-last game of the season, she fell and broke her ankle. No scholarship for her. She gave up on college.

She ended up as a bartender at one of the hippest restaurants in the city. And you know what? She found she had more fun at...

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About the prompt

Originally displayed on:
March 22, 2011


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