Starter Call | @fugitivcisms | Accepting
Driving from Colorado to Oregon hadn’t been a real ‘choice’, he was just trying to put some distance between him and Murkoff. It wasn’t hard to steal some dead guy’s car and get the fuck out of there. Of course, he was low on cash so the car running out of gas, this time, made him decide to stay in the small town for at least a day or so. It was a stupid choice. As if there was a god, and it fucking hated him… The town was hit with a terrible fucking storm.
He had been sleeping in the stolen car when it happened. Of course, he was by some junkyard outside of town. The wind was blowing junk everywhere, pieces of metal ripped off junk cars smashed his windshield. Glass bottles smashed against his car. The wind was rocking the damn thing so much that it felt like it might blow it over. It was probably safer to just get out.
Which he did. He needed to find shelter. He stayed behind the car for cover from the flying garbage. This was like some sort of crazy hurricane on steroids. He cursed his luck and began trying to move away from the car. The wind whipped around him and threatened to knock him over. He needed to make it back to town.
Of course, the road was surrounded by trees, and he could practically HEAR them giving in to the horrible gusts. He tried to hurry, but a tree gave way and seemed to be heading right for him. He dove out of the way, landing hard on the ground. He was soaking wet and the large tree was now blocking the road behind him. Good time for him to hear a car approaching.
Someone was pulling up on the other side of nature’s road block. It would have been too lucky if they could have given him a ride back to town, now there was a tree in the way. He managed to climb over the thing close to the stump. He needed help. He instinctively had his hands up, as if the person in the car would see him as a threat.
He just stood there between them and the tree, waiting for their reaction.
