We are lost. Very lost. Because dad doesn’t believe in GPS devices or road maps. It has been this way since my childhood. In fact, I recall one summer afternoon in which we circled around a Holiday Inn for hours because daddy couldn’t figure out the exit and refused to pull over and ask for directions.
So, anyway, we’re in the middle of god-knows-where, and all I can think of is that movie; you know, the one with the crazy, flesh-eating family. What is it called? Chainsaw Massacre?
I bite my nails as the sun goes down over an open field and wonder how in the world Dad plans to get us out of this one.
Just playing around. The prompt called for a voyage and deserted island. However, I’ve used my creative license to come up with something else. Now that I think about it, we should do A ROUND ROBIN!
Come on Ritx, Ike, Miss Elizabeth and fellow scribes. Let’s crank this baby up and come up with a short story.
Ready? Set? Let’s do it!