The Sound That Scratched the Car Roof
The car stopped in the middle of a forest road.
At first, they both laughed.
He tapped the steering wheel and said,
“No way, we can’t actually be out of gas, right?”
The needle on the gauge was already stuck at empty.
The woman looked out the passenger‑side window.
The road was dark.
There were no streetlights.
The trees were dense on both sides.
The phone signal had been flickering at one bar before disappearing entirely.
They were on their way back to the city.
They had stayed late at a friend’s house.
He said he knew a shortcut.
If they took a small road off the highway, they could save twenty minutes.
The woman didn’t feel great about it.
But he kept saying it was fine.
“I’ve been here a few times.”
She believed him.
The car ran fine for about ten minutes.
Then the engine jerked once.
Twice.
And then it stopped.
He tried to start it again.
Each time he turned the key, the engine made a weak scraping sound.
The woman said,
“Let’s just call roadside assistance.”
He picked up his phone.
No signal.
The woman checked hers.
No signal.
They were silent for a while.
The car suddenly felt small.
Outside was too quiet.
Her own reflection showed in the passenger window.
The forest behind them was pitch black.
He opened the
