The image is from Peter H from Pixabay.
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.
Teresa tagged Fandango first, click on the link below to see his post:
And Fandango tagged me… So here goes.
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 …
… 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 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 …”
Part Three – My Bit
“… was told it was in a state of disrepair and so if I arranged to pick it up myself, I could have it for just $10. I thought it sounded a bit strange, but I took a leap of faith and hired a pickup truck and drove all the way to Delaware to get it. The person selling it lived on an old farm, with a squeaky screen door and sat outside in a rocking chair chewing tobacco. I thought I’d been transported back in time.”
“You’re pulling my leg,” Leslie said unconvinced.
“No Seriously. After I loaded up the damaged coach onto the truck and gave the strange man his $10, he gave me a sideways glance and said to me, “Beware, it’s bad luck to ride on Sunday’s”. I thought nothing of it at the time, but it’s Sunday today. I think we’re lucky to be alive.”
Leslie looked doubtful but said “Well, how are we going to get home, the coach is busted and we must be a few miles from home. It’s not that busy a road either.”
Alan saw a house off in the distance and pointed it out to Leslie.
“Let’s take a walk over to the house and see if anyone can accommodate us by lending us some tools to repair the coach. Or maybe they could let us use their phone to call some roadside assistance.”
As they walked towards the house, they noticed that it was a rickety old wooden building painted the brightest shade of puce.
“I’ve never seen a puce coloured house, Leslie, have you?” Alan asked sniggering.
“Is that what you call it? I call it Flamingo pink” Leslie giggled back.
“I wonder what kind of fellow lives in a house like this” Alan replied.
Then they reached the front door and knocked…..
OK end of part two, now who shall I nominate to continue…
How about Sadje of Keep It Alive?
I have included the following word prompts: