I gunned the decrepit Toyota into the garage and slammed it into park. It shuddered and coughed as it died.

“Momma, this car sucks.”

“I know it does, Emma. But it’s the car we need right now.”

“But where are we going?”

“I’m not sure yet. Please, Emma, enough questions. We need to get moving as quickly as we can.”

Emma herded Suzy inside in silence, holding hands and waiting patiently. I glanced at them both, my eyes filled with tears.

I threw clothes into suitcases and carried them out to the trunk, one by one. Short on time. I hurried. But the girls only looked more and more frightened each time I dashed past them to the rusty old car. The cheapest car I could find in the skeevy used car lot. I paid cash.

But Dan had my car today and we had to be gone before he came back. With his associates. The ones with the guns.

I stopped to think. Cash, clothes, girls. Was I missing anything?

Ah, Cell Phone with the GPS. Into the microwave, ten minutes should fry it.

I’ve never been on the run before. But for my girls, I will learn fast.

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Inspired by this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt:

Statue of Boudicca (Boadicea) in London, UK

Kind of a stretch to go from that image to that story, right?

I just find Boudicca‘s statue to be highly unbelievable; can you imagine any mother loading two daughters into a war chariot, ever?

So I just fast-forwarded a little bit…and altered the chariot… and the Romans…


Cotton Candy

It’s just one of those things. Cotton Candy evokes fairs and circuses and those terrible cheap sideshow carnivals. Awful but memorable, all the same.

Pure sugar rush, of course. And oh my goodness yes terrible for anyone to eat. But one of those tastes that just instantly triggers a memory (or bunches of them).

Scents are supposed to be the strongest memory triggers of all, so I presume that the smell produced by a cotton candy machine, caramelized sugar that carries on the breeze, would be the strongest. Popcorn machines too, all carnivals have popcorn, right?

Carnivals and circuses and zoos are just wonderlands of these kinds of sensations.

The trick is giving your little beggars enough of the Terribad foods to form lifetime memories, but not enough to have them ralphing in your car all the way home, right?

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Tell us about a sensation — a taste, a smell, a piece of music — that transports you back to childhood.

Two with everything, Sam