She wasn’t alone, driving too many dark and stormy hours on a desolate stretch through back woods towns too small to be called cities. Neither was she walking down a darkened alleyway between warehouses on an abandoned shipping dock.
What she was, was standing in her little girl’s favorite ice cream parlor ordering her special treat, an old fashion dream-sickle. They were enjoying the day, downtown in their mid-western paradise. Her daughter surprised her one day by calling their quaint little town Goldilocksville. Not too big and not too small she would say, making her mother smile. Her daughter happily tasted her treat. Her mom paid the cashier, took Amanda’s hand and turned towards the door.
The shop’s large front glass, with its quaint lettering spelling out Ice Cream Dreams, had changed. Now the window frame contained some bold metallic lettering shattering the innocent ones from before. These letters read Peterbilt.
A Peterbilt truck, constructed with extreme care, is guaranteed to stand the test of time. They carry the country’s goods from ships that arrive from distant lands, delivering to every giant metropolis' and tiny boroughs across the country. This big truck, however, has lost its way. So powerful was it that it plowed through the little shop like it was made of toothpicks. It plowed through the shoe store directly behind the little ice cream shop, crashing out on to the next street, it’s front end smoking.
Amanda and her mom shined as they moved away. Realizing they were floating, she picked up little Amanda and they shone together. Down on the street, one twisted little form transfixed all who looked on in horror. It’s an image none of the onlookers would ever forget. Though they tried to avert their eyes, none could look away from what was on the little girl’s hand.
What she was, was standing in her little girl’s favorite ice cream parlor ordering her special treat, an old fashion dream-sickle. They were enjoying the day, downtown in their mid-western paradise. Her daughter surprised her one day by calling their quaint little town Goldilocksville. Not too big and not too small she would say, making her mother smile. Her daughter happily tasted her treat. Her mom paid the cashier, took Amanda’s hand and turned towards the door.
The shop’s large front glass, with its quaint lettering spelling out Ice Cream Dreams, had changed. Now the window frame contained some bold metallic lettering shattering the innocent ones from before. These letters read Peterbilt.
A Peterbilt truck, constructed with extreme care, is guaranteed to stand the test of time. They carry the country’s goods from ships that arrive from distant lands, delivering to every giant metropolis' and tiny boroughs across the country. This big truck, however, has lost its way. So powerful was it that it plowed through the little shop like it was made of toothpicks. It plowed through the shoe store directly behind the little ice cream shop, crashing out on to the next street, it’s front end smoking.
Amanda and her mom shined as they moved away. Realizing they were floating, she picked up little Amanda and they shone together. Down on the street, one twisted little form transfixed all who looked on in horror. It’s an image none of the onlookers would ever forget. Though they tried to avert their eyes, none could look away from what was on the little girl’s hand.
