Sunday, February 9, 2014

100 Words a Day 539

The last two days had been hell. He had crashed his ATV and was unable to walk. He had spent two cold nights in the woods, shivering and afraid, and two hot days dragging himself along the ground. His neck ached from looking up and his shirt in tatters. He pulled himself up one last hill with aching arms.

He crested the hill and saw the town. Despite his exhaustion, dehydration, and pain, he began to cry tears of joy. The sun touched the town’s whitewashed church, nearly blinding him with brilliant reflection. He found renewed strength and pulled on.

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