Rust Bucket

The car was a wheeless ruin in the desert night, a tiny little thing swallowed by the starry sky.

Black paint faded and eaten through with rust, it’s mighty engine silent and dry, powerless.

The young girl sat in the driver’s seat, looked through the broken out windshield to the black horizon.

She smiled. She’d be Eden by morning, with Eve Mother, and all the light and wonders that had abandoned her.

By morning this would all be over, and no one would ever hurt again.

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