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Mangled Graveyard

Updated: Mar 13




Mangled Graveyard

Laura Nettles


The crunch of metal rings in my ears. It is incessant and deep, reverberating though my chest. Where am I? My eyelids peel open and the darkness does not dissipate except for a long, horizontal sliver by my head. The peeking light is harsh, illuminating a seeping fog entering my enclosure, threatening to suffocate me.

My lungs expand, yet the air entering them are filtered through something solid on my face. I rub my mouth against my bare shoulder and feel damp fabric. My nostrils let me know it’s wet with blood. I’m gagged and bound, my hands behind my back twisting in the zip ties.

“This one is next. Line it up for demolition.” A gruff voice outside my solid enclosure yells as they slap their hand on the solid roofing above me. “No one is going to want to buy this clunker and the parts are too old. Not even worth the scrap metal.”

Heart in my throat I scream, but the people outside take no notice over the din of crumpling metal. The smashing of cars. I’m in a trunk.

My mind goes into overdrive, trying to recollect the last things that happened to me. It comes in whirls of color, smears of scents and a babbling of dialogue. I had been kidnapped and slipped into a coma from a concussion. They must have thought me dead or unusable.

The ground shudders and lifts. No. The car is being lifted. My stomach heaves with the vertigo as the whole vehicle twists and keels mid air. I scream with all my might.

We descend with a thunk, but keep moving steadily forward. The lid of the trunk pops up on impact with the conveyer belt and the world opens up.

Stacks of rusted out bodies of cars loom, engulfed in the night time fog lit by harsh street lights, dying it orange. The slamming of metal being dumped rattles my teethe despite the gag.

Smash.

I’m next.

Struggling to my knees, I maneuver my bound feet to try and get some traction to escape this prison. The car falls out from under me. I am a split second behind it.

The lid of the trunk slams down over top of me once more, my coffin. Shrieks of twisted metal engulf me, my own tormented screams merging with the death throws of the car.

The graveyard runs red.



The End



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