Road Trip


“This isn’t going to end well, is it.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror. “That a question, little lady?”

“Not really,” she sighed. They’d just passed the exit to Jimmy’s Ice Cream, where he’d promised to bring her. Why the hell had she hitchhiked? Whatever happened now would be her own damn fault. Idiot. Her dead cell phone may soon have some company.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “This ain’t no fun.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, join the club.”

“You ain’t scared?”


He slid a gun from his waistband. “Now?”

“Cool. Can I see that?”


Okay, folks. This is my first ever choose-your-own-adventure flash. What happens next? 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

February 27, prompt: Open Road In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes the open road. Where will the trip lead?




27 thoughts on “Road Trip

  1. She palmed the slim revolver, casually opened the cylinder. Only five chambers, all full.
    “.22 magnum; loud.”
    He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah. Loud.”
    She spun the chamber then clicked it shut. “No hammer; double action; good for carrying. Accurate enough at close range.”
    Now both his eyebrows were raised. She laughed. “You ain’t scared are you?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “They say all roads lead home. Turn around. Take me home.”
    The house sat alone on a wooded lane. “Good, they’re both here. Come meet my parents. They’ll just die to meet you.”

    Liked by 7 people

  2. Well – this is unexpected. If Jimmy’s Ice Cream had chocolate/peanut butter flavor, I’d probably put the gun to his head and make him turn back. If I really felt my life was in danger, but with him giving her the gun, I’m kind of doubtful, I’d force him to drive me to the nearest police station.

    Liked by 4 people

  3. Pingback: Stories From the Open Road « Carrot Ranch Literary Community

  4. The pink plastic had a heft to it that spoke of more than water inside. She aimed it at the driver’s head and pulled the trigger.

    Jelly. Raspberry.

    OK, she had to admit that now it was at least a little fun. Not as fun as two scoops of Jimmy’s chocolate peanutbutter with buckeyes. But fun nonetheless.

    The only truly un-fun part now was how crowded this back seat was—and that the sweat of the other ten passengers smelled oddly of cotton candy.

    How had she not noticed when she’d gotten in that it was a clown car?

    Liked by 1 person

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