Friday Night Drabble Party!
Twas the day after thanksgiving, and all through the house, food comas continue to subdue the rabble.
Rabble rhymes with drabble!
Hey, you remember when I was asking everyone to pledge to the Mountain Of Words Write-A-Thon? Do ya? Well, about four of you did! Yay for you four!
The rest of you…? For shame, I say! FOR SHAME!
Want to rid yourself of that shame the day after saying how thankful you are for all the stuff in your life? DONATE! That’s right, you can still donate to the Asheville Writers in the Schools program. Click, click, click!
Now, on to the free micro-fiction!
Gears ground as he tried to force the shifter into third. The stick kicked hard against his palm. That would leave a bruise. Bruises were the least of his worries.
The pedal thumped against the sole of his boot, the clutch refusing to engage. He snarled as he fought back, shoving his foot down, determined to leave second gear.
Screaming, the engine protested the revolutions per minute forced on it. Screaming back, he dared to glance into the rearview mirror. The black sedan was gaining.
It would be on him after the next curve.
Damn that third gear to hell.
Disclaimer: Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way, turn.