Heat rises in waves from parched ground, as far as the eye can see the land cracks in spider web patterns, nearly shattered. The only thing interrupting the desolation of the featureless landscape is the asphalt of the two-lane highway splitting the desert in half and continuing into the far horizon before him. The sun has only been up an hour, he has to make it through to the next town before the worst of the day heat hits.

‘Why did he think this metal deathtrap would make it across hell in high summer?’

The sun higher in the sky the car rattles in protest, steam rising from under the hood. His skin prickles with heat; sweat trickles down his back and pools on the seat. With a last rattle, the car comes to a standstill.

‘That’s it; I will parboil in my own sweat what an end.’

Flash in the Pan is brought to you by the amazing Red of M3 fame

This week’s word is Parboil. The word limit is 150 words. This one comes in at 148.

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