Prompt: The fire engine arrived too late.
The firefighters rode in silence as the fire engine sped through the streets.
“We’re not going to make it in time.” Frank cracked his knuckles anxiously. “That last job took too long.”
Bill gripped the steering wheel and growled. “We’ll make it. We have to make it. They’re depending on us.”
The engine swerved around the corner toward a row of orange cones. The police officer standing duty waved them through.
But Bill stopped the truck and sighed in defeat as a salt water taffy wrapper tumbled across the empty street.
They were too late.
The parade was already over.
*Flash Fiction is fiction under a thousand words. I participate in a weekly prompt that's limited to a mere one hundred words. That's crazy short. You can check out the other participants' stories via their links on the WonHundred Word Wednesdays Facebook page here.*