Characters are the flesh and soul of a story
March 5, 2005.
It was a cold, windy morning, the muffled sound of horse hooves against the soil a constant auditory companion as
through the woods. The horse beneath me breathing heavily, his sides expanding with each deep breath, and falling as he let each out.
There were 7 of us in total. We were simply riding on Sunday morning for the fun and enjoyment of it. As we got further back into the woods we passed a tree that had fallen down to the side of the trail some time ago. It was rotten and jagged. Two of our party attempted to break one of the most prominent spikes off as they passed. Unfortunately, they did not succeed.
As I rode past, I failed to hold the reigns on my horse’s bridle properly, and he did not dodge the opposing jagged branch. All I felt at the time was a strange tingling pain, but when I looks down, I learned that it was much worse.
As I mentioned before, it was a cold morning, so I was wearing two layers of pants. The branch had torn through both layers of pants and one inch into my thigh, tearing a four inch crescent moon gash into my inner thigh.
After about 20 minutes we borrow a 4-wheeler from a neighbor and hauled me back to the truck, and from there we took the truck to the Good Samaritan hospital, where I received 14 stitches.
As it turns out, the gash was only two inches from my femoral artery, but luckily, it merely tore into the fat tissue, so there was minimal bleeding, though the muscle was exposed.
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mushmonkey823 