The following is a piece I wrote for a creative writing class I am taking. If you're an aspiring writer, I highly recommend this class.
Loretta and Mick
Dun.
Dun Na Na.
Dun Na Na.
The staccato beginning of “Back in Black” burst out of faded
green speakers as the Camaro sped along Highway 17 in a race against no one. At
3:30 am, this particular stretch of the road was open and empty.
Loretta glanced over at the driver who was too busy playing
drums on the steering wheel to notice ashes falling from his cigarette onto his
denim jacket. She wondered how much Jack Daniels he’d had tonight. Even after
four years of practice, Loretta still couldn’t get a good read on her
step-father. One glance at the crumpled Budweisers littering the back seat
confirmed that he had been drinking
tonight. The cans weren’t there earlier when her mom had driven her to work.
It was moments like these when Loretta really wished she had
her own car. Last year she had gotten her driver’s license but Mick would never
let her drive his classic Forest Green Chevy Camaro. “Classic” as in 100 years
old, Loretta thought wryly.
Suddenly overwhelmed by the nauseating mix of smoke, stale
beer, and decades-old leather, Loretta quickly cracked her window for air. The
fresh blast was a welcomed relief from the musty armpit of a car she felt
trapped in.
“Hey!” Mick snarled. “It’s too cold for that bullshit. Roll
the window up!”
Even though it was winter, February in Florida was not that
bad. It was probably 45 or 50 degrees outside, Loretta estimated. She slowly
rolled the window back up.
“Shit, there are ashes all over me now, thanks to you!” Mick
complained as he tried to drive with one hand and brush his jacket with the
other.
Loretta opened her mouth to set him straight but then closed
it again. Why bother. She turned her head and closed her eyes.
Mick turned the stereo up another notch in defiance. Buzzing
feedback crawled into Loretta’s ear and through to her back teeth. She shook her
head to the side, making a futile attempt to get it out.
“Jerk,” she thought but said nothing. She looked out into
the blackness of the night.
Mick rolled down his window just far enough to toss his
cigarette. He reached for another.
BOOM!
A thud loud enough to be heard over the rattling stereo
caused Loretta to sit up straight and grab the arm rest.
“What the hell was that?!” Mick asked. Loretta was only able
to shake her head and stare at him with giant eyes.
The car continued to speed down the highway as Mick glanced
at the rearview mirror. Loretta wondered when he was going to stop.
“It was probably nothing,” Mick shrugged stubbornly. ”I’m
not stopping.”
Panic gave way to anger as Loretta turned toward her
step-father.
“You have to go back!” she demanded, her voice cracking. He just
looked at the road and ignored her, his face like stone.
“Mick! What the hell? Are you that drunk that you can’t
think straight?”
“I am not drunk! I had 3 beers at the most,” Mick lied. “What
do you know about it, anyway, little girl?”
Loretta felt the threat in his voice. She had overstepped
her bounds.
“You have to go back,” Loretta said as calmly as she could.
“Please. What if there is an injured animal or something?”
Mick reluctantly slowed the car. After it came to a complete
stop, he threw the door open and jumped out. Loretta opened her side and
followed. She shivered inside her polyester waitress uniform. The cold darkness
seemed to swallow them both into a desolate nothingness.
Flicking his
cigarette lighter on, Mick frowned as he examined his front left tire. Loretta approached
slowly, noticing what appeared to be a mass of blood and fur.
Or was that hair?
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