From the Prompts: Reminisce

This week, I forgot I had another word challenge with the Ranger. I've been busy with work, both academic and not, and I've been a bit away from the blog. Nonetheless, I promised I would write something down, but I have to say, coming up with something for this week's word was a little bit more challenging than the past two times I did this challenge. I considered two other, very different directions with which to take this word, but I am glad I chose this direction instead; this direction being the story I've written below. To be honest, I feel like I cheated a little, and once you read how I used the word you'll realize what I mean. Still counts, though. Oh, and the word for this week was hurricane. So, without further ado, my story, titled Reminisce.


The young man pulled off the main road, rolling to a stop at a lookout point that offered a view of a countryside glowing red in the sunset. The sudden silence as he ground the vehicle to a halt and shut off the engine cracked the air. 1972 Cadillac El Dorado, rusted brown paint, twisted steel where the bumper should be. He never was a good driver, he would sheepishly tell himself. The metal of the door squeaked open as he got off, nonchalant and unfazed. He gave a gentle kick to the front tire. Goodrich, faded whitewall. God, this car was old. It had been his grandfather's after all.

The man contemplated for a while, watching the sunset, adjusted his jeans a little, stroked his jet-black goatee, and walked back to the car. He got in and shut the heavy door closed. He turned on the radio, leaned the driver’s seat back, and closed his eyes.

"Here I am, rock you like a hurricane," the song played. A welcome song to be sure.

When the man opened his eyes again, he was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of blurred white around him. The song, once a euphoric blend of guitars and drums, now faded back to the constant beeping from the monitor. The man feebly turned his head, now supported by pillows, to the blurry figure sitting next to him.

“Dad, were you dreaming again?” the figure asked him gently and playfully, the way you might ask a child. Even though the old man couldn’t see well anymore, he instantly recognized his daughter through her voice. He mumbled a little and raised a wobbly hand towards her. She took it, gave it a gentle squeeze, and nodded.

“I wanna hear all about it, Dad. What was the 21st century like?”


-Gabe

3 views1 comment

Subscribe Form

©2020 by The Ranger Books. Proudly created with Wix.com