Flash Fiction by S. John Davis

She lay her head against the window.

Heart beating. Ground shaking.

Thud. Thud.

It was always the same. Every night they gathered the courage to move out again, every night she stayed in the car too terrified to move.

Thud. Thud.

Tonight was the first time she regretted the decision.

The keys were in the ignition, so there was hope. She prayed she hadn’t been seen. She prayed that she wouldn’t be seen as she crawled over the centre console and into the front seat. She ducked her head down behind the steering wheel, too scared to check if she’d been spotted.

“Breathe.” She spoke the solitary word through rasped breath. “Breathe.”

Thud. Thud.

Counting now. Three. Two. One.

The ignition roared to life, headlights sending blinding light out into the perfect night. A hundred eyes on her. More. Less. It didn’t matter. She slammed her foot onto the pedal. Wheels spun against loose earth before springing to life, screaming into silence, bellowing before the sudden break of sound. They rushed toward her, howling their soulless cries into the night, gnarled arms waving around whatever old rusted metal they could wield.

She cried out and held tight to the wheel.

Thud. Thud.



About the author: S. John Davis is a Gippsland based author, musician and occasional cheese eater. His debut novel is due out ‘any day now’* but for now he makes his shorter works available from his facebook page. http://facebook.com/sjohndavis

*Any day now may actually be longer than previously indicated.

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