Toby needed to make tracks. Fast. He should have left town right after the killing, even if it meant hitchhiking through a snowstorm at midnight. Instead, he’d slept in the old wino’s cardboard palace. The smell weren’t too bad, so he stayed a couple of nights. Then they found the body.
Too late to hitch out now. He’d have to hop a train. He waited until the bull went by on an ATV, then tried to slip into an empty box car. It was locked! Climb up to the roof? Or cling to the underside? The bull caught him half way under.
The Challenge: Write a story in 100 words or less
The Hub: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The Photo Credit: C.E. Ayr
8 Responses to Making Tracks