A Traumatic Experience at Sea

I was haunted by a traumatic experience at sea.

Well, to be fair, the experience hadn't happened at sea. But it was within sight of the sea, on a boat. I could smell the sea.

It wasn't really a boat. It was more a pickup truck. But it probably would have floated for a few minutes if I'd kept the windows rolled up.

The truck wasn't running at the time.

In fact, I don't think the truck would have run even if I'd had the key.

Which I didn't. But really, since the engine was missing, there was no need for a key.

The truck was stolen. I admit that.

Not by me. I found the truck.

And it really wasn't a truck as much as it was the bed of the truck.

It was on fire.

I don't like to talk about why the bed of the truck happened to be on fire at that particular moment.

It was very traumatic, and if I couldn't smell the sea because of the fumes from burning plastic, I could have if the plastic had been less on fire at that moment.

And I wasn't really haunted by it. More in awe that I was able to steal that truck bed.

I was tied up at the time, which is why I was in awe. Usually it's difficult to steal trucks that have wheels when you're not completely immobilized. But somehow I managed to steal just the bed, no wheels, without being able to move. Somehow.

I don't remember how.

This is a problem.

When the aliens showed up, they were impressed. I could tell, even though I couldn't understand their language. I suppose I'm a bit haunted by the beauty of their spacecraft.