Rasita

Mud was everywhere, over the green grass, over the helpers. She just wouldn't budge.
Out came the rope, fastening at her front.
With a loud cry the helpers tugged and pulled back, groaning and grunting with the effort exerted.
Slowly she edged her way forwards, her angry growl turning into a contented purr.
The edge of the mud pit was close, so close that she could feel the freedom, taste the bitter sweet victory.
It was almost hers.
Suddenly with a loud exclamation she surged forwards, purr still on high, full of excitement.
The rope snapped, she slid back, the purr dulling to a groan as the mud encroached her tired and worn body, burying her even further in her depths.
The helpers released the rope and stood back, splattered in fresh mud, assessing the situation.
She had gone further back in the slippery terrain, further into peril.
The best thing to do was take what they could salvage and leave the rest to the elements to scavenge.
Having gathered what they could, they stopped to take another look and farewell the old beast.
She had done her job well over these many years but her time had drawn to a close and it was over.
That was the end of the old car, she was embedded in the slippery mud, left to be a reminder to avoid that part of the land and the many years they had shared, to succumb to the weather and rust in peace.