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Weekly Contest #279
The gravel lightly crunched, harmonizing with the sound of the brakes screeching to a halt. It slung me against the back of the van door with a solid thunk. My hands were still tied and my eyes blindfolded when I heard the slow scraping of boots. Every few hours repeated themselves. Whoever took me drove in one direction for miles. Every so often making slight turns as to avoid taking the same road for too long. The van would stop. A violently large man would make his way to the back of the van. He would ask questions I did not have the answ...
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