Where the wild things are

junkyard car Nash Rambler

“This is an exceptionally noisome trash pit,” holding a clean bandana over her nose and mouth, Hannah tiptoed through the junkyard, careful to not touch any of the rusting hunks. “I’m fairly certain this is illegal. You know, another arrest and it’ll be jail time for you.”

Laughing at her discomfort, I rummaged through the popped trunk of an old Nash Rambler. Not concerned about the ochre dust on my hands, I wipe them off on the seat of my jeans.

“It’s not illegal if we don’t get caught.” I headed toward another derelict wreck hoping to find usable parts. “And, for your information, junkyards don’t stink. I don’t know what that smell is, but it’s not a car.”

Hannah waved her bandana at me, making a sort of gurgling noise, her eyes wide and dilated. Her black pupils obscuring hazel irises.

Turning around to look in the direction of her stare, I saw a huge, staggering shadow moving among the old cars. The putrid stench Hannah complained of, was coming from this creature.

Before her horror-stricken squeaks gave us away, I grabbed the back of her jacket and dragged her behind a wall of metal.

“Pull yourself together,” I hissed between clinched teeth. Placing a finger against my lips, I tried to get her to be quiet. “If you don’t shut up, whatever that is will find us.”

She wrapped both hands over her mouth, shoving her bandana between her teeth to keep them from chattering. Eyes closed, back against the rear quarter panel of a late-model Impala, she shivered in fear.

I wedged myself between a gap in the cars, trying to get a good look at our Sasquatch. I fumbled with my smartphone, hoping to grab a photo of the creature only to lose sight of him among junkyard relics.

Just as I was about to sneak out of my hiding place, I was overcome with a nauseating smell, and all light was blocked by a pair of legs as thick as tree trunks. Fighting a heightened gag reflex, I drew back into the gap. I held my breath against the stench, and tried not to give away my position.

Hannah was shaking so violently that she was tapping out a rapid staccato on the side of the car putting us in danger of being discovered. I pulled a discarded hubcap from under the car, and threw it like a Frisbee across the yard, hoping to draw the hulk’s attention away from us.

Clutching Hannah’s hand, I pulled her to her feet and dragged her towards the junkyard’s front gate. I can hear the creature behind us, the ground trembling under its feet. The stench from it is overpowering.

We are almost to the gate and freedom when I feel Hannah jerk out of my grasp, and I’m pulled backward, crashing to the ground.

Just before I hit the dirt…

I wake up…

My little darling is asleep in my arms, her belly full and milk drunk. From the smell of her, she also has a full diaper.

I really need to stop eating hot wings right before going to bed.

lightandshade logo
Light and Shade Challenge: “This is illegal you know.” ~ from The Legend of Zelda
This week’s Studio30 Plus: “noisome” and/or “smelly”

5 thoughts on “Where the wild things are

  1. I loved the language in this, it brought all the smells to me as a reader and I was so glad when I got to the end and realized it was simply a restless night’s sleep, your imagination and a diaper on a toddler.


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