racecar

Here the next sixty seconds were to determine his life. He saw his speedometer, the red needle just about touching 280 mph, but never quite reaching it. He must win this race, it might be his last, but he was racing for his something more.

He steered through the tunnel. He veered past his only opponent. Why, he thought, why had he slowed down, something must have gone wrong.

In a moments flash, he saw what was ahead. He smashed down on the brakes, a bit too fast. The car swiveled, burning its tires on the track, leaving a dark trail as it skidded past. It toppled over, the whole massive car, over and up almost a feet above the ground. Its whole body spun as it crashed into the ground, its lights bursting, the glass shattering, raining its shards over the burnt track, the metal crumpled and molded by the heat within, rolling like an avalanche, leaving bits and pieces behind. It hit the concrete side-stand and came to a crashing stop.

The gasoline was pouring out, and was slithering its way down, ever expanding. As it reflected the sky in rainbow rings, another liquid flowed into it, darkening the rings. The liquid had a slight reddish tinge to it as it overpowered the petrol. The picture frame, holding his lovely family along with his prized golden retriever, slowly slid out of the wreckage and clanged onto the pavement, and scratched a little spark.