Teresa Grabs, formerly known as The Haunted Wordsmith, has resurrected her Finish the Story prompt on her new blog. The idea is that Teresa starts a story and then tags someone to pick it up where she left off. Then that person tags another to pick up where he or she left off. And so on and so on. I’m honored that Teresa has selected me as her first victim participant.
Here’s how Teresa got the story started.
Leslie squealed as Alan removed his hands from her eyes. “Oh, Alan! It’s beautiful!” The coach and dirt path seemed a marriage made in time. How had he done this? Surely he didn’t go all the way to Pennsylvania to buy the coach, but she wouldn’t put anything past him.
“I knew you’d love it.” Alan’s red cheeks matched his hair. Whether it was from the cold or love, it didn’t matter, an entire year’s work and effort culminated in the smile on Leslie’s face. Totally nailed it.
Leslie bounced and clapped, kissing him on his cheek. “Take me for a ride! It’s works, doesn’t it?”
“Of course it does, my love.”
They climbed into the coach. Alan chuckled, looking all around for its key, starter button — something, anything.
Suddenly the coach started and they laughed as it lurched. Leslie was sure Alan was doing this, and Alan was wondering how Leslie was operating the coach. It wasn’t until it picked up speed as it went down the trail and headed for a corner that panic set in.
“Alan? Alan! Stop this!”
Alan pushed and pulled at everything he could see within the coach, but nothing slowed their ride. “I’m not doing this.” He glanced toward the trees and wiped his face. “Should we jump for it?”
“Are you insane!” Leslie slugged his arm as tears formed in her eyes.
The coach turned the corner on its own. Leslie and Alan covered their eyes as …
And here’s my addition.
… the coach careened down the trail, picking up speed. Leslie was crying hysterically. “Alan, please stop this thing before we both die.”
“I don’t know how,” Alan responded. “I can’t find a brake.” The two clung to each other, sure that this misadventure would end in disaster, as the carriage continued to bound and bounce down the trail.
A few seconds later, the jostling of the delicate coach caused the left rear wheel to come off of its axle. The coach to tipped to one side and tossed the two passengers from the carriage like rag dolls.
Fortunately, Alan and Leslie landed on a grassy mound a few feet off the rocky trail. Both were shaken, but neither was hurt, save for a few small cuts and bruises. Once it sank in that they were both okay, they hugged each other. “That was a close call,” Alan whispered in Leslie’s ear.
Leslie pulled away from Alan and gave him a stern look. “Alan, where did you get that haunted coach?” she asked.
Alan shook his head. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. I saw an ad in the paper,” he said. “So I called and …”
And now I’m going to tag Kristian from Tales From the Mind of Kristian to take it from here.
The image at the top is from Peter H from Pixabay.
As soon as I saw this week’s image that Sadje chose for her What Do You See? prompt, the only thing I could think of was a poem I remember from high school written by American poet, painter, essayist, author, and playwright e.e. cummings (1894-1962). In his poem, “in Just,” which was originally published in The Dial, Volume LXVIII, Number 5 (May 1920). New York: The Dial Publishing Company, Inc., Cummings refers to the “lame balloonman,” the “queer old balloonman,” and the “goat-footed balloonman.”
This, That, and the Other 