Shapes flew by like stars across the sky, neon colors beyond imagination. Cylinders. Rectangles. Boxes. Dancing in line, 70 miles per hour. They were there, then were not. All that remained were black scars on the sweating pavement, litter on the ground, exhaust rising in the sky, and the next shape in line to fly by.


The boy sat beside the dog. The parents in front. Bags in back.


The boy watched the colors swirl past him, eyes laughing at the excitement and beauty. Luscious yellows, yellows, yellows, greens, greens, greens, purples, pinks, and blues. A rainbow of machinery. The shapes danced, oh what fun!


“The dog's gotta go.”


One of the shapes, the colors, slowed and stopped. The dog jumped out. It ran towards the rainbow of machinery. The boy was jealous. The mother closed his eyes. The leash was pulled back. The father held the other end. The dog yelped. The parents sighed. Relief. The family entered the forest. The dog stopped. Yellow, yellow, yellow onto green, green, green. Laughter. They walked back.


The rainbow of machinery pushed on.


The boy watched them excitedly. The boy giggled at the rainbow of machinery, prancing out to join in the fun. The mother chased after, as if playing tag. He laughed and sang and skipped and stopped.


Swerve. Squish. Splat. Spray. Scream. Scarlet fireworks. The mother howled as the rainbow collapsed in on itself, as red, red, red flooded the scene.


The shapes slowed. Colors grew dark. And everything went black, black, black.