Pin-Up Inferno

Somewhere deep in the woods, where the air crackles like static and the trees swallow all sound, she stands — waiting. The old muscle car behind her hums faintly, though no key turns. Flames lick the ground but never touch her. Is she a memory? A warning? A trap dressed in lingerie and chrome? This is no roadside dream — this is the last stop before things go dark. Forever.