DAMSEL IN THE ROUGH:

Ann Mary Tempesta Sample text:

_____My soul and sights aimed forward. After an hour of driving my 1972 Mustang along straight paths, I turned left at a fork following a swerve blending into a sluggish incline of cherry colored gravel. Occasionally, the rear view mirror revealed  horseback riders--hundreds of them, all equipped with a variety of rustic weapons. Road dust mildly clouded a view of their growing distance. All and all, I had the advantage, more horsepower.
_____Where am I? How can I still be stuck in a dream?
_____Mile after mile, I hunched over the wheel like an aged zombie staring into nothingness. The roadways narrowed and curved weaving gradually between jutting ridges of craggy shale. Yanking a hard left on a sandy fork, I stood on the brakes squealing as the car stopped. Before me sat a long granite trail climbing to the highest peak. The sun sat lightly above a lavender cloud. At the road's apex, a donut-hole of solid rock framed magenta sky. When I reached the top, I parked sideways before the donut-hole, to keep from rolling down. Here we go.
_____My arms barely moved as my fingers pried from the pasty steering wheel. Using my left knee, I kicked the driver's door open. A slap of cold air nipped thousands of nerve sites. Rolling my shoulders, I managed to straighten up from a hunch. Parched, starving, lost, and stinky. Nagging pains joined into a patch of stale agony along my chest and back. Life is forward. Making cagey fists, I flexed achy fingers and staggered with wooden legs to peek at my travel wake. For fifty-miles, I saw misty, stony ridges. Turning about, I walked like a drugged chicken. My elbows flapped outward as my back arched. Plodding to the donut-hole entrance, I swung my arms and clapped my hands to increase blood circulation.
_____Muggers about?
_____"God just wouldn't do that to me, right now."
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 DAMSEL IN THE ROUGH