I was inspired by Bojana to attempt to write a bit of flash fiction. Here goes. Please let me know what you think … is it flash fiction?

We left Aragorn’s head with the Mennonites … At least that’s the last place I remember seeing it, resting on the driver’s seat of the Volvo, staring blankly at the neatly arranged tools hanging on the wall of the barn that served as the mechanic’s garage. The car had been bumped and bruised quite a bit in the rollover but its barely-held-together-by-rubber-bands (as we joked) engine was probably okay, saved by a sturdy bonnet, as the man said. And so “they” would take it in lieu of ambulance fees and I believe 500 dollars which would help us get home. But that was a matter between C’s parents and the Mennonites. I just grabbed what I could as they negotiated—my guitar for sure and some clothes (those not splashed by gasoline.) C grabbed her Martin and the shift knob, which had been carved of Swedish birch, and we said a tearful goodbye to Frodo. We hated to leave him, our trusty steed, but C was four months pregnant and so we had to return to Reno from the cornfields of Indiana. I’m sure she kept the shift knob with her in a sacred place which, after that trip, she never shared with me.