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The Mailcoach

"Troublesome roads and dusty plains of sagebrush, Ahhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaa." he said to the trail ahead. The mail coach delivery was late and he slapped the reins against the horses backside. "Get a goin Dolly and Dander, get a goin! The boss don't like it when we're late." The passengers bumped and rolled from side to side in unavailing consort with the mail coach.

He declared a faithful acquiescence with the journey as sun bleached bones rattled under the coach wheels in crackling bone dust exclamation. "YEEEEEHHHHAAAWWWWW!" he screamed lashing the reins in fury.

The slow-motion animation of cactus picker and dust bowl tempests lay in his wake like a snakeskin trail of sorrow and woe. The bodies in the mail coach compartment swayed in union with the rattler coach in undulations of pitted bumpy passage. Boney fingers of alabaster and ivory scratched the bleached bone of an empty eye socket as the boogey roared toward the gates of hell. "Can't be late!" he yelled in maniacal glee, "Can't be late!"

Story by:

Ron Koppelberger

will806095@bellsouth.net

submitted at 12:33pm

17 August 2010