Written for OLWG# 369
###
When I woke, a halo of sunshine glowed around the edges of the window curtain, telling me it was morning and there was nothing I could do about it. I lay back in my bed with my eyes closed. I hoped the morning would go away. My mouth was dry and tasted like dragon fire.
Perhaps I drifted off again, back to sleep; perhaps not.
I woke the next time to the throaty rumble of a large, powerful engine on the street below. I thought I recognized the sound, but no, I knew I recognized the sound. It was Greta, pulling to the curb in her ’66 Ford GT 40. It was the car that beat Ferrari at LeMans that same year.
Well, not that exact chariot, but it was an original 66, with the big, slow-turning V8 that seemed to be loafing at anything less than 6000 RPM.
I don’t know how Greta acquired it; she never told me, but it was beautiful.
There were stories of a card game in Detroit, tales of a ‘skins’ game at ‘Greywalls,’ rumours of blackmail, and saved lives. There were a lot of tales, but no one knew for sure.
The car sat low to the ground; the front end was sleek and aerodynamically sculpted. The back end looked as if it had been pinched off, prematurely. It looked unfinished. I didn’t care for the rear end, although it may have served the purpose of keeping the drive wheels on the asphalt.
I trembled at the sound of the engine.
I liked the dark-tinted windows.
I thrilled at the speed.
I loved the driver.
#####
This week’s prompts were:
- cut my bones into cubes and play dice
- back porch
- dark tinted windows
tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice 