12-11

A short fiction for your Friday.

The road to the campground wound through several miles of dense ponderosa and aspens. Fall was firmly set and the first dusting of winter snow billowed in the wake of the old pickup as it made its way up the hill, chugging faithfully along despite its age and need of an oil change. 

They weren’t talking about anything particular. Sipping their coffee, commenting on this or that scene along the way. It was comfortable. It was familiar. 

He turned the truck up the last of the switchbacks and the snow thickened in front of them. They inches through it cautiously, aware that the previous rains could have left a layer of black ice buried beneath the few inches of delicate snow.  The campground turnoff showed no signs of tire tracks, they were the first to arrive. As they’d planned. They pulled down the old, rutted dirt road to the clearing. At some point the forest service had put in a picnic table and a small metal ring for fires. But that was it. It wasn’t much more than a vacancy of trees Butted up to the start of a snow capped mountain range. S few more weeks and they’d never be able to get this far.

What most people didn’t know was that there were a few old forest service Cabins settled beyond the tree line, tucked directly against the base of Red Mountain (ehich was not called so because of its coloring but because of a local hunter, Red Hammet, who lost his life during s failed attempt to poach elk that led him slipping down a ravine where he slowly bled out for three days waiting for a rescue that was never to come). They are small, one room affairs each with a fireplace equipped for cooking and little else. Three Id them were too far gone to be habitable, but two had stood against time and weather and were used often enough by those who knew of them that they’d been carefully repaired and tended and added to over the years. Even the normal mischief hounds who would happily vandalize their own mothers house treated the cabins as sacred and they were left alone most of the time for those who needed a place to go. Like now.

Neither of them had been sure where to go, when they’d first started to realize what was going to happen. And it had never been directly expressed that they were actually both on the same page, but when he suggested the cabin as a way point to their destination, she’d snatched it up as the opportunity she hopes they’d both been looking for.
That’s it. That’s as far as I’ve gotten today. Now im too full to think, let alone write, and it’s the time for child picking up and dinner making.

Happy Friday, even though I can’t be all the way happy. Because it’s Friday.

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About brandil79