This week’s piece of flash fiction is a little bit darker. Enjoy!
We’d head half a mile out of town and watch the sun go down in the old red Toyota. The windshield glowed, then reddened. And the girl would appear in the field in front of us and we let her in the back. Every night.
I don’t feel bad, and Rich didn’t either, I guess. I don’t know about the girls, they never said anything.
No, Sir. Not a girl. Girls. A new one every night, come down out of the sun. I told you.
Well, where else are we gonna put ‘em afterwards but in the earth? That’s where the sun goes every night. Comes back up the next morning.
No sir, I never hurt no one, just helped put the sun to bed.
Well, maybe the sun is her soul, so she has to die for it to come back the next day.
We never did anything like that to them. We just drove around until they cooled down enough to touch, then made them get out of the car and turn away so we could kill ‘em without them seeing.
If you only found one body, that proves my point, because we’ve been doing this for months. That hole should be full.
Like most of these stories, this is an edited version of a writing prompt exercise. The idea is just to keep writing and see what happens. As soon as I had written the first sentence I immediately noticed the mistake, which suggests that the sun is setting in the Toyota. So I wrote the rest of it trying to find out what that would be like, if it was true.
