The Petrol Station down St. Dale Street
The only thing the driver could see was the eerie resonance of his rusty headlights, driving faster than he could see what was up ahead.
The mud splashed and squelched under the weight of his beat-up car. The trees crept in around him hugging him in an already claustrophobic setting.
The heavy rain sounded more like hail crashing down on the sunroof, lit up occasionally by the blinding bright flash of the lightning; suddenly he violently slammed down on the brakes, and a screeching sound came from the tires slightly muffled by the mud.
A fallen tree lay in his way, he sighed covering his head with his leather raincoat. The driver opened his boot, and a suitcase, jumper cables, windscreen wash, and a tattered rope were lit by the faint light coming from the brake lights. He snatched the rope eager to get out of the rain and attached it to the front of his car. He took it out of the park and started to reverse with aggression, clearly rushed.
The tree reluctantly slipped out of its fastened position, and the driver violently opened the door and rushed out of the car to get the rope, he returned it to its rightful place and got back in the car; however when he put it in drive it simply would not move, it was stuck.
The driver steps out of the car once again and checks the back wheels he looks at the wheel and sees a sudden glint, he looks back and sees a pick-up truck with a scruffy figure inside.
“Are you stuck?” says the man, silhouetted by his headlights.
“Yes, I tried to get a log out of the way and got myself stuck.” the driver replied.
The scruffy man walked over and inspected the car, “Hmph” he walked back and grabbed the winch attached to his pickup truck and hooked it onto the back of my car. He turned on the winch and the car started to move,
“The rear axles’ been snapped. I have no idea how you’ve done tha', I’m driving back to my petrol station, you can stay there for the night”.
“Yeah alright, I appreciate it”.
Both the men got in the front seat of the pick-up, and the drive was quiet and uneventful.
As they parked up to their destination the driver noticed the dimly lit derelict petrol station. The pick-up truck came to a sudden stop, and a violent wave of inertia forced the driver out of his seat.
The scruffy man spoke with a deep and raspy voice, “You can come inside, but make sure to wipe your feet.”
He stepped out of the car and slammed the door, leaving the driver in the car, the interior lights turned off and he was sitting in the dark, gloomy pick-up.
The driver steps out, and his foot sinks in the mud, he walks over to the front door, and steps inside. The driver notices a dilapidated candle-lit shrine to an old pet of the scruffy man, uncared for anymore, yet somehow graceful.
“Dinner will be ready in 20 minutes.”
The driver checks his watch.
“It’s quarter past three?”
“Well I’m hungry, and I imagine that you’re hungry too.”
The man reluctantly nods, “where’s the bathroom?”
The driver nods his head in the direction of a crooked door.
The man enters however when he exits the once cozy-ish apartment was completely overrun, vines and trees took over the walls, and the candle-lit shrine is now tarnished and devoid of life. The walls had all fallen, revealing a faint breeze of air, the man looked in the distance and saw the hazy shade of orange filling the sky from the sunrise.
The table was damaged and worn down, the only thing on it was the driver's car keys.