My, how he hated the emaciated sub-species. It gave him no small amount of pleasure to drive his Daimler slowly along the perimeter fence laughing heartily at their plight.
In moments of particular malice it was his singular delight to have them polish the bodywork.
‘This automobile is like you. A collection of elements brought to heel and bound up in a chamber of fiery combustion into which gas is pumped.’
Defeat came quickly and there was little time for sentimentality. He left his precious vehicle behind and fled into obscurity – abandoning his Reich and his identity.
For many years he retreated ever south, constantly in fear of capture, plummeting at last to a lowly lean-to in the woods…
…outside of which…
…he discovered the husk of his once proud possession.
Despite the revulsion there was something to be admired in their audacity.
‘I can only imagine the logistics involved in such a feat.’
They rose from the undergrowth and spoke as one.
‘This automobile is like you. Burnt out, expended.’
Written for: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers