010 – Dumpster

dumpster rust

Image by Elaine Faith. Used with permission.

Mom turned off grandma’s Buick in the carport. My heart pounded. I pulled the release, chrome, slid out of the seat, then walked around behind the trunk before she could go inside. “Mom?” She hadn’t even closed her door when the words came quickly. I cried, hoping that forgiveness might erase the sounds that continued to pull me into the dark.

Dear visitor, thank you for stopping by. You can check out the story gallery for more (ordered chronologically beginning at “001”), or stay tuned for the latest by subscribing below. You’ll receive one story per week, and you can unsubscribe any time.