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Interactive story....
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Cindi    Posted 02-26-2004 at 06:03:09       [Reply]  [No Email]
If you want to participate, add a paragraph. I will save the changes and add new paragraphs provided by you (all) as needed. It is now 8:56 by my clock, you must have your entry in within fifteen minutes. At the end of fifteen minutes I will post a 'time's up' post'. At the end you will get the whole story. If you don't understand what's going on, just add a paragraph for now. Put in whatever you want.

The beginning:

It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm.

(This guy can be a cowboy helping take a herd from point a to point b, or he can be a marshall looking for an outlaw. He can be a settler scouting for land, or a soldier scouting for indians. He may have someone with him, or he may be alone. The time frame could be now, or a hundred years ago. You choose. It'll be interesting to see which way it goes. Only one entry will be chosen for the next paragraph. It may be yours and it may be someone else's but there will be plenty of chances to try again. It's just something to do. If it works out, we'll come up with a title for it later.)



Gene SC    Posted 02-26-2004 at 06:23:05       [Reply]  [No Email]
The old mutt dog with matted fir that had
been with him for about two years, fell behind
his horse to follow. he wasn't much to look at
but he was a good companion and friend and in
his line of work,companionship and friendship
were very scarce.


time extended...    Posted 02-26-2004 at 06:18:40       [Reply]  [No Email]
...since there were no entries the time has been extended for ten more minutes. Come on guys, surely someone has an idea how this should go. It is now 9:12. I'll check back in ten minutes.


next paragraph needed....    Posted 02-26-2004 at 06:31:40       [Reply]  [No Email]
It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder
rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like
outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to
cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking
his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm.

The old mutt dog with matted fir that had been with him for about two years, fell behind
his horse to follow. he wasn't much to look at but he was a good companion and friend
and in his line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce.

Time limit: Thirty minutes starting at 9:25


Newgen    Posted 02-26-2004 at 07:07:19       [Reply]  [No Email]
Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements.


next paragraph needed    Posted 02-26-2004 at 07:12:57       [Reply]  [No Email]
It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fir that had been with him for about two years, fell behind
his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)

(New time expires in twenty four minutes or at 10:30)


Gene SC    Posted 02-26-2004 at 07:36:40       [Reply]  [No Email]
The inside of the old "soddie" was very dirty
and cobwebbs hung from every protrussion. it
was clear that it hadden't been used in some
time, but it would keep them dry and out of the wind. He managed to scronge up a little wood left
by someone who was now long gone,and built a small
fire so he and Dawg could stay warm. He then shared a piece of beef jerky with his only friend
and settled back on the old dirty cot, lit his
pipe and let his mind drift away on the things
that he had to do tomorrow


next paragraph needed....    Posted 02-26-2004 at 07:36:40       [Reply]  [No Email]

It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fir that had been with him for about two years, fell behind his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up
temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)


Being in an honest to God house (however meager)kind of made Rutt a little homesick. As it was he rarley had a chance to speak out loud, unless it was to Dawg or to curse himself for doing something stupid, and even though the house was dead empty except for him and Dawg, it held a eerie remanant traces of the lives that had lived in it before. Hooks hanging from the ceiling beams spoke to cooking pots that had been used over the open fire place to fill bellies and warm cold bodies. (Cindi)

time is up at 11:00


next paragraph needed....    Posted 02-26-2004 at 07:40:55       [Reply]  [No Email]
It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fir that had been with him for about two years, fell behind his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up
temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)


Being in an honest to God house (however meager)kind of made Rutt a little homesick. As it was he rarley had a chance to speak out loud, unless it was to Dawg or to curse himself for doing something stupid, and even though the house was dead empty except for him and Dawg, it held eerie remanant traces of the lives that had lived in it before. Hooks hanging from the ceiling beams spoke to cooking pots that had been used over the open fire place to fill bellies and warm cold bodies. (Cindi)

The inside of the old "soddie" was very dirty
and cobwebbs hung from every protrussion. it
was clear that it hadden't been used in some
time, but it would keep them dry and out of the wind. He managed to scronge up a little wood left
by someone who was now long gone,and built a small
fire so he and Dawg could stay warm. He then shared a piece of beef jerky with his only friend
and settled back on the old dirty cot, lit his
pipe and let his mind drift away on the things
that he had to do tomorrow (Gene)

(Time is up in twenty six minutes or at 11:00)


deadcarp    Posted 02-26-2004 at 07:58:08       [Reply]  [No Email]
The storm wasn't long in coming and needed little fanfare - a sharp clap of thunder echoed thru the skies and they just opened up. In seconds it was pouring, the horse skittered near the shack as raindrops bounced off his shiny rump and ran down his flanks. Rutt had lugged the saddle inside, and of course the rain found the first leak, which naturally tried to tap dust from the saddle, which rousted Dawg to scoot over next to Rutt. Dawg hated moving so he nipped the gritty hand that swung to settle him. Then without warning ----


new paragraph needed....    Posted 02-26-2004 at 08:05:56       [Reply]  [No Email]
It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fur that had been with him for about two years, fell behind his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to
set up temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)


Being in an honest to God house (however meager)kind of made Rutt a little homesick. As it was he rarley had a chance to speak out loud, unless it was to Dawg or to curse himself for doing something stupid, and even though the house was void of life except for him and Dawg, it held eerie remanant traces of the lives that had lived in it before. Hooks hanging from the ceiling beams spoke to cooking pots that had been used over the open fire place to fill bellies and warm cold bodies. (Cindi)

The inside of the old "soddie" was very dirty and cobwebbs hung from every protrussion. It was clear that it hadn't been used in some time, but it would keep them dry and out of the wind. He managed to scrounge up a little wood left by someone who was now long gone, and built a small
fire so he and Dawg could stay warm. He then shared a piece of beef jerky with his only
friend and settled back on the old dirty cot, lit his pipe and let his mind drift away on the things that he had to do tomorrow (Gene)


The storm wasn't long in coming and needed little fanfare - a sharp clap of thunder echoed thru the skies and they just opened up. In seconds it was pouring, the horse skittered near the shack as raindrops bounced off his shiny rump and ran down his flanks. Rutt had lugged the saddle inside, and of course the rain found the first leak, which naturally tried to tap dust from the saddle, which rousted Dawg to scoot over next to Rutt. Dawg hated moving so he nipped the gritty hand that swung to settle him. Then without warning ---- (Deadcarp)


The dog began to growl low in his throat. A low rumbling vibration that Rutt could feel as well as hear. The rain was lashing the little sod house and thunder was literally shaking the
frame. Drops of water found their way through the roof making a steady tap tap on the dirt floor and Rutt knew that Dawg could hear nothing above the din of the weather, which meant that he was reacting to a scent, and the only thing Dawg had ever reacted to this way to smell-wise, was indians. He slipped his pistol from the holster and... (Cindi)

(Time is up at 11:30 or in thirty minutes.)



Gene SC    Posted 02-26-2004 at 08:18:33       [Reply]  [No Email]
felt in his pocket for the gold star that
showed that he was a US Marshall. although he
never wore it where it could be seen, because
a few people would love to see it on the open
range and make a target of it. he fondled it
for a second and though comforting he knew it
would be no defence against Indians.


deadcarp    Posted 02-26-2004 at 08:17:26       [Reply]  [No Email]
"He slipped his pistol from the holster and... (Cindi)"

heard it again - the floor boards creaked and there near the fireplace, a tiny wisp of dust rose from the forgotten trapdoor as it creaked slowly open and an ancient weathered hand -----

(----thought you needed some incentive :)



refresh    Posted 02-26-2004 at 07:54:39       [Reply]  [No Email]
thread


next paragraph needed....    Posted 02-26-2004 at 08:38:40       [Reply]  [No Email]
It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fur that had been with him for about two years, fell behind his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)

Being in an honest to God house (however meager)kind of made Rutt a little homesick. As it was he rarley had a chance to speak out loud, unless it was to Dawg or to curse himself for doing something stupid, and even though the house was void of life except for him and Dawg, it held eerie remanant traces of the lives that had lived in it before. Hooks hanging from the ceiling beams spoke to cooking pots that had been used over the open fire place to fill bellies and warm cold bodies. (Cindi)

The inside of the old "soddie" was very dirty and cobwebbs hung from every protrussion. It was clear that it hadn't been used in some time, but it would keep them dry and out of the wind. He managed to scrounge up a little wood left by someone who was now long gone, and built a small
fire so he and Dawg could stay warm. He then shared a piece of beef jerky with his only friend and settled back on the old dirty cot, lit his pipe and let his mind drift away on the things that he had to do tomorrow (Gene)

The storm wasn't long in coming and needed little fanfare - a sharp clap of thunder echoed thru the skies and they just opened up. In seconds it was pouring, the horse skittered near the shack as raindrops bounced off his shiny rump and ran down his flanks. Rutt had lugged the saddle inside, and of course the rain found the first leak, which naturally tried to tap dust from the saddle, which rousted Dawg to scoot over next to Rutt. Dawg hated moving so he nipped the gritty hand that swung to settle him. Then without warning ---- (Deadcarp)

The dog began to growl low in his throat. A low rumbling vibration that Rutt could feel as well as hear. The rain was lashing the little sod house and thunder was literally shaking the frame. Drops of water found their way through the roof making a steady tap tap on the dirt floor and Rutt knew that Dawg could hear nothing above the din of the weather, which meant that he was reacting to a scent, and the only thing Dawg had ever reacted this way to smell-wise, was indians. He slipped his pistol from the holster and....(Cindi)

....felt in his pocket for the gold star that showed that he was a US Marshall. Although he
never wore it where it could be seen, because a few people would love to see it on the open range and make a target of it. He fondled it for a second and though comforting, he knew it would be no defence against Indians. (Gene)

(time's up in thirty minutes or at 12:00)


RichZ    Posted 02-26-2004 at 08:53:31       [Reply]  [Send Email]
He was as ready as he'd ever be. His pistol would be little use against a war party. He had hoped to come upon the Indians before they found him. He had been tracking them for so long, hoping against hope that this was the tribe that had his daughter.



next paragraph needed....    Posted 02-26-2004 at 09:06:25       [Reply]  [No Email]

It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fur that had been with him for about two years, fell behind his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)

Being in an honest to God house (however meager)kind of made Rutt a little homesick. As it was he rarley had a chance to speak out loud, unless it was to Dawg or to curse himself for doing something stupid, and even though the house was void of life except for him and Dawg, it held eerie remanant traces of the lives that had lived in it before. Hooks hanging from the ceiling beams spoke to cooking pots that had been used over the open fire place to fill bellies and warm cold bodies. (Cindi)

The inside of the old "soddie" was very dirty and cobwebbs hung from every protrussion. It was clear that it hadn't been used in some time, but it would keep them dry and out of the wind. He managed to scrounge up a little wood left by someone who was now long gone, and built a small
fire so he and Dawg could stay warm. He then shared a piece of beef jerky with his only friend and settled back on the old dirty cot, lit his pipe and let his mind drift away on the things that he had to do tomorrow (Gene)

The storm wasn't long in coming and needed little fanfare - a sharp clap of thunder echoed thru the skies and they just opened up. In seconds it was pouring, the horse skittered near the shack as raindrops bounced off his shiny rump and ran down his flanks. Rutt had lugged the saddle inside, and of course the rain found the first leak, which naturally tried to tap dust from the saddle, which rousted Dawg to scoot over next to Rutt. Dawg hated moving so he nipped the gritty hand that swung to settle him. Then without warning ---- (Deadcarp)

The dog began to growl low in his throat. A low rumbling vibration that Rutt could feel as well as hear. The rain was lashing the little sod house and thunder was literally shaking the frame. Drops of water found their way through the roof making a steady tap tap on the dirt floor and Rutt knew that Dawg could hear nothing above the din of the weather, which meant that he was reacting to a scent, and the only thing Dawg had ever reacted this way to smell-wise, was indians. He slipped his pistol from the holster and....(Cindi)

....felt in his pocket for the gold star that showed that he was a US Marshall. Although he
never wore it where it could be seen, because a few people would love to see it on the open range and make a target of it. He fondled it for a second and though comforting, he knew it would be no defence against Indians. (Gene)

He was as ready as he'd ever be. His pistol would be little use against a war party. He had hoped to come upon the Indians before they found him. He had been tracking them for so long, hoping against hope that this was the tribe that had his daughter. (Rich)

(Time's up at 12:30 or in thirty minutes)




sdg    Posted 02-26-2004 at 09:32:52       [Reply]  [No Email]
And as the lightning flashed and brightened the night sky he looked thru a small opening. As he moved ever so slightly, Dawg moved with him. "Thanks for the support buddy, but you ain't gonna be much help." As he pered out thru the opening, he was taking aback for he saw...


next paragraph needed....    Posted 02-26-2004 at 09:40:39       [Reply]  [No Email]
It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fur that had been with him for about two years, fell behind his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)

Being in an honest to God house (however meager)kind of made Rutt a little homesick. As it was he rarley had a chance to speak out loud, unless it was to Dawg or to curse himself for doing something stupid, and even though the house was void of life except for him and Dawg, it held eerie remanant traces of the lives that had lived in it before. Hooks hanging from the ceiling beams spoke to cooking pots that had been used over the open fire place to fill bellies and warm cold bodies. (Cindi)

The inside of the old "soddie" was very dirty and cobwebbs hung from every protrussion. It was clear that it hadn't been used in some time, but it would keep them dry and out of the wind. He managed to scrounge up a little wood left by someone who was now long gone, and built a small
fire so he and Dawg could stay warm. He then shared a piece of beef jerky with his only friend and settled back on the old dirty cot, lit his pipe and let his mind drift away on the things that he had to do tomorrow (Gene)

The storm wasn't long in coming and needed little fanfare - a sharp clap of thunder echoed thru the skies and they just opened up. In seconds it was pouring, the horse skittered near the shack as raindrops bounced off his shiny rump and ran down his flanks. Rutt had lugged the saddle inside, and of course the rain found the first leak, which naturally tried to tap dust from the saddle, which rousted Dawg to scoot over next to Rutt. Dawg hated moving so he nipped the gritty hand that swung to settle him. Then without warning ---- (Deadcarp)

The dog began to growl low in his throat. A low rumbling vibration that Rutt could feel as well as hear. The rain was lashing the little sod house and thunder was literally shaking the frame. Drops of water found their way through the roof making a steady tap tap on the dirt floor and Rutt knew that Dawg could hear nothing above the din of the weather, which meant that he was reacting to a scent, and the only thing Dawg had ever reacted this way to smell-wise, was indians. He slipped his pistol from the holster and....(Cindi)

....felt in his pocket for the gold star that showed that he was a US Marshall. Although he
never wore it where it could be seen, because a few people would love to see it on the open range and make a target of it. He fondled it for a second and though comforting, he knew it would be no defence against Indians. (Gene)

He was as ready as he'd ever be. His pistol would be little use against a war party. He had hoped to come upon the Indians before they found him. He had been tracking them for so long, hoping against hope that this was the tribe that had his daughter. (Rich)

He'd given up everything in search for his child. His job, friends, and almost his sanity. He still hated himself for leaving Beth and Melanie alone two years while he went off in search of a useless horse thief. He'd been gone less than three days when a band of renegades swept down on his modest house, burned it to the ground, killed his wife and stole his eight year old daughter. With his pistol drawn, one arm around Dawg's neck and his pipe forgotten on the dirt floor beside him, Rutt leaned forward expectantly. He didn't care if the face that showed itself at the door was connected to the he11 that had been perpetrated on his family or not. He aimed to shoot to kill and...(Cindi)

....as the lightning flashed and brightened the night sky he looked thru a small opening. As he moved ever so slightly, Dawg moved with him. "Thanks for the support buddy, but you ain't gonna be much help." As he peered out thru the opening, he was taking aback for he saw... (sdg)

time's up at 1:00


deadcarp    Posted 02-26-2004 at 10:23:01       [Reply]  [No Email]
In the absence of true subjective inspiration, this might not be exactly on subject, but let me get squirrely and see how bad i can twist the story around:

"As he peered out thru the opening, he was taking aback for he saw... (sdg)"
*********
First one, then another, then ultimately thousands of cubans waded ashore. The leader, a smallish moustached fellow, trotted directly for the shack and safely inside, he was surprised to see Rett and Dawg. "Ay mon, chew're een our chack! Thees ees our affway ouse and we store towels eer! Bot sonny as eet ees, my compadres are dryeeng off oudorse." Rett, kinda embarrassed now, holstered his gun, hitched up his britches and told Dawg to pipe down.
"Ay senor, can i eenterest chew een my cussin's time-chare? Feefty bocks for da weekaind and all the serveca chu can dreenk? We cot dussens of weeling senoreetas - wat chu made of steel? Ware chu can get a deal like thees? We'll drop you off."
"Well", Rett replied, producing his cellphone "I'll have to check with my broker."
As the hopelessly-overburdened polkadot Hummer limo struggled and disappeared over the nearest dune, Dwag turned to his ridgeback companion: "I think it was my Harvard professor once said 'Survival is directly proportional to flexibility'". "It was Voltaire love," she replied, "and last night you swore it was Yale."



Gene SC    Posted 02-26-2004 at 10:03:26       [Reply]  [No Email]
There, lying on the ground, was a doll! "could
it be?, it looked like the one that Melanie had
dragged around for most of her eight years.
What did it mean?, was she somewhere close by?
and where were her captors? He ever so slowly
opened the door just enough to ease his body
through.......


next paragraph needed...    Posted 02-26-2004 at 09:59:18       [Reply]  [No Email]
corrected:
It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fur that had been with him for about two years, fell behind his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)

Being in an honest to God house (however meager)kind of made Rutt a little homesick. As it was he rarley had a chance to speak out loud, unless it was to Dawg or to curse himself for doing something stupid, and even though the house was void of life except for him and Dawg, it held eerie remanant traces of the lives that had lived in it before. Hooks hanging from the ceiling beams spoke to cooking pots that had been used over the open fire place to fill bellies and warm cold bodies. (Cindi)

The inside of the old "soddie" was very dirty and cobwebbs hung from every protrussion. It was clear that it hadn't been used in some time, but it would keep them dry and out of the wind. He managed to scrounge up a little wood left by someone who was now long gone, and built a small
fire so he and Dawg could stay warm. He then shared a piece of beef jerky with his only friend and settled back on the old dirty cot, lit his pipe and let his mind drift away on the things that he had to do tomorrow (Gene)

The storm wasn't long in coming and needed little fanfare - a sharp clap of thunder echoed thru the skies and they just opened up. In seconds it was pouring, the horse skittered near the shack as raindrops bounced off his shiny rump and ran down his flanks. Rutt had lugged the saddle inside, and of course the rain found the first leak, which naturally tried to tap dust from the saddle, which rousted Dawg to scoot over next to Rutt. Dawg hated moving so he nipped the gritty hand that swung to settle him. Then without warning ---- (Deadcarp)

The dog began to growl low in his throat. A low rumbling vibration that Rutt could feel as well as hear. The rain was lashing the little sod house and thunder was literally shaking the frame. Drops of water found their way through the roof making a steady tap tap on the dirt floor and Rutt knew that Dawg could hear nothing above the din of the weather, which meant that he was reacting to a scent, and the only thing Dawg had ever reacted this way to smell-wise, was indians. He slipped his pistol from the holster and....(Cindi)

....felt in his pocket for the gold star that showed that he was a US Marshall. Although he
never wore it where it could be seen, because a few people would love to see it on the open range and make a target of it. He fondled it for a second and though comforting, he knew it would be no defence against Indians. (Gene)

He was as ready as he'd ever be. His pistol would be little use against a war party. He had hoped to come upon the Indians before they found him. He had been tracking them for so long, hoping against hope that this was the tribe that had his daughter. (Rich)

He'd given up everything in search for his child. His job, friends, and almost his sanity. He still hated himself for leaving Beth and Melanie alone while he went off in search of a useless horse thief. He'd been gone less than three days when a band of renegades swept down on his modest house, burned it to the ground, killed his wife and stole his eight year old daughter. With his pistol drawn, one arm around Dawg's neck and his pipe forgotten on the dirt floor beside him, Rutt leaned forward expectantly. He didn't care if the face that showed itself at the door was connected to the he11 that had been perpetrated on his family or not. He aimed to shoot to kill and...(Cindi)

....as the lightning flashed and brightened the night sky he looked thru a small opening. As he moved ever so slightly, Dawg moved with him.

"Thanks for the support buddy, but you ain't gonna be much help."

As he peered out thru the opening, he was taking aback for he saw... (sdg)

time's up at 1:00


sdg    Posted 02-26-2004 at 09:58:06       [Reply]  [No Email]
for standing before him not fifteen feet away were the men he had so long searched for and in a small wagon just beyond where they stood was his daughter. She was sitting there wrapped in a old piece of deer hide. As he looked towards her a thought crept into his mind, "what now?" He sat back a minute and realized he had almost no chance at making it out alive. Terror began to engulf his mind for all he had was a gun and a dog. And his daughter...would she now have to witness him being slain as she had seen her mother two years before? For a moment, he closed his eyes and said a small prayer. Then he took to his feet, motioned for Dawg to stay. He turned around looking towards the door...


next paragraph...    Posted 02-26-2004 at 10:11:27       [Reply]  [No Email]

It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fur that had been with him for about two years, fell behind his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)

Being in an honest to God house (however meager)kind of made Rutt a little homesick. As it was he rarley had a chance to speak out loud, unless it was to Dawg or to curse himself for doing something stupid, and even though the house was void of life except for him and Dawg, it held eerie remanant traces of the lives that had lived in it before. Hooks hanging from the ceiling beams spoke to cooking pots that had been used over the open fire place to fill bellies and warm cold bodies. (Cindi)

The inside of the old "soddie" was very dirty and cobwebbs hung from every protrussion. It was clear that it hadn't been used in some time, but it would keep them dry and out of the wind. He managed to scrounge up a little wood left by someone who was now long gone, and built a small
fire so he and Dawg could stay warm. He then shared a piece of beef jerky with his only friend and settled back on the old dirty cot, lit his pipe and let his mind drift away on the things that he had to do tomorrow (Gene)

The storm wasn't long in coming and needed little fanfare - a sharp clap of thunder echoed thru the skies and they just opened up. In seconds it was pouring, the horse skittered near the shack as raindrops bounced off his shiny rump and ran down his flanks. Rutt had lugged the saddle inside, and of course the rain found the first leak, which naturally tried to tap dust from the saddle, which rousted Dawg to scoot over next to Rutt. Dawg hated moving so he nipped the gritty hand that swung to settle him. Then without warning ---- (Deadcarp)

The dog began to growl low in his throat. A low rumbling vibration that Rutt could feel as well as hear. The rain was lashing the little sod house and thunder was literally shaking the frame. Drops of water found their way through the roof making a steady tap tap on the dirt floor and Rutt knew that Dawg could hear nothing above the din of the weather, which meant that he was reacting to a scent, and the only thing Dawg had ever reacted this way to smell-wise, was indians. He slipped his pistol from the holster and....(Cindi)

....felt in his pocket for the gold star that showed that he was a US Marshall. Although he
never wore it where it could be seen, because a few people would love to see it on the open range and make a target of it. He fondled it for a second and though comforting, he knew it would be no defence against Indians. (Gene)

He was as ready as he'd ever be. His pistol would be little use against a war party. He had hoped to come upon the Indians before they found him. He had been tracking them for so long, hoping against hope that this was the tribe that had his daughter. (Rich)

He'd given up everything in search for his child. His job, friends, and almost his sanity. He still hated himself for leaving Beth and Melanie alone two years ago while he went off in search of a useless horse thief. He'd been gone less than three days when a band of renegades swept down on his modest house, burned it to the ground, killed his wife and stole his eight year old daughter. With his pistol drawn, one arm around Dawg's neck and his pipe forgotten on the dirt floor beside him, Rutt leaned forward expectantly. He didn't care if the face that showed itself at the door was connected to the he11 that had been perpetrated on his family or not. He aimed to shoot to kill and...(Cindi)

....as the lightning flashed and brightened the night sky he looked thru a small opening. As he moved ever so slightly, Dawg moved with him.

"Thanks for the support buddy, but you ain't gonna be much help."

As he peered out thru the opening, he was taking aback for he saw standing before him not fifteen feet away the men he had so long searched for and in a small wagon just beyond where they stood was his daughter. She was sitting there wrapped in a old piece of deer hide. As he looked towards her a thought crept into his mind, "what now?" He sat back a minute and realized he had almost no chance at making it out alive. Terror began to engulf his mind for all he had was a gun and a dog. And his daughter...would she now have to witness him being slain as she had seen her mother two years before? For a moment, he closed his eyes and said a small prayer. Then he took to his feet, motioned for Dawg to stay. He turned around looking towards the door...(sdg)

Surely they had seen the smoke from the fire but they did not know that Rutt had seen them. Rutt's only advantage being outnumbered the way he was, was surprise. He slipped out of the little house and into the rain. His best chance would be in sneaking up on them and not letting them know where he was or that he was alone. Dawg slipped out behind Rutt and Rutt had to physically restrain him to keep him from running into the bunch of indians and getting himself shot. He and the dog snuck away into the night to wait for the indians to claim the little sod house, at which point he would attack and reclaim his child. (Cindi)

...Now I gotta go get some stuff done so you guys can go on with this or leave it til later it's up to you....chow for now. Cindi


next paragraph...    Posted 02-26-2004 at 10:20:22       [Reply]  [No Email]
It was clear from the gathering storm clouds that a gully washer was on the way. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the wind sent tumbleweeds darting across the prairie like outlaws escaping from a posse. Rutt Mason automatically pulled his neckerchief up to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to proect his lungs from the swirling dust. Kicking his horse up to a trot, he set about looking for a place to weather the storm. (Cindi)

The old mutt dog with matted fur that had been with him for about two years, fell behind his horse to follow. He wasn't much to look at, but he was a good companion and friend and in Rutt’s line of work, companionship and friendship were very scarce. (Gene)

Up ahead he saw something. Upon approaching, he found an abandoned sod house. Probably some previous settler run off by the drought, or indians, or the generally hard life out on the prairie. For whatever reason it was there, it fit his immediate need. He tied his horse where he was best sheltered from the wind, and took his meager belongings in to set up temporary "housekeeping". At least he and "Dawg" would have some protection from the elements. (Newgen)

Being in an honest to God house (however meager)kind of made Rutt a little homesick. As it was he rarley had a chance to speak out loud, unless it was to Dawg or to curse himself for doing something stupid, and even though the house was void of life except for him and Dawg, it held eerie remanant traces of the lives that had lived in it before. Hooks hanging from the ceiling beams spoke to cooking pots that had been used over the open fire place to fill bellies and warm cold bodies. (Cindi)

The inside of the old "soddie" was very dirty and cobwebbs hung from every protrussion. It was clear that it hadn't been used in some time, but it would keep them dry and out of the wind. He managed to scrounge up a little wood left by someone who was now long gone, and built a small
fire so he and Dawg could stay warm. He then shared a piece of beef jerky with his only friend and settled back on the old dirty cot, lit his pipe and let his mind drift away on the things that he had to do tomorrow (Gene)

The storm wasn't long in coming and needed little fanfare - a sharp clap of thunder echoed thru the skies and they just opened up. In seconds it was pouring, the horse skittered near the shack as raindrops bounced off his shiny rump and ran down his flanks. Rutt had lugged the saddle inside, and of course the rain found the first leak, which naturally tried to tap dust from the saddle, which rousted Dawg to scoot over next to Rutt. Dawg hated moving so he nipped the gritty hand that swung to settle him. Then without warning ---- (Deadcarp)

The dog began to growl low in his throat. A low rumbling vibration that Rutt could feel as well as hear. The rain was lashing the little sod house and thunder was literally shaking the frame. Drops of water found their way through the roof making a steady tap tap on the dirt floor and Rutt knew that Dawg could hear nothing above the din of the weather, which meant that he was reacting to a scent, and the only thing Dawg had ever reacted this way to smell-wise, was indians. He slipped his pistol from the holster and....(Cindi)

....felt in his pocket for the gold star that showed that he was a US Marshall. Although he
never wore it where it could be seen, because a few people would love to see it on the open range and make a target of it. He fondled it for a second and though comforting, he knew it would be no defence against Indians. (Gene)

He was as ready as he'd ever be. His pistol would be little use against a war party. He had hoped to come upon the Indians before they found him. He had been tracking them for so long, hoping against hope that this was the tribe that had his daughter. (Rich)

He'd given up everything in search for his child. His job, friends, and almost his sanity. He still hated himself for leaving Beth and Melanie alone two years ago while he went off in search of a useless horse thief. He'd been gone less than three days when a band of renegades swept down on his modest house, burned it to the ground, killed his wife and stole his eight year old daughter. With his pistol drawn, one arm around Dawg's neck and his pipe forgotten on the dirt floor beside him, Rutt leaned forward expectantly. He didn't care if the face that showed itself at the door was connected to the he11 that had been perpetrated on his family or not. He aimed to shoot to kill and...(Cindi)

....as the lightning flashed and brightened the night sky he looked thru a small opening. As he moved ever so slightly, Dawg moved with him.

"Thanks for the support buddy, but you ain't gonna be much help." (sdg)

As he peered out thru the opening, he was taking aback for he saw there, lying on the ground, a doll! Could it be? It looked like the one that Melanie had dragged around for most of her eight years. What did it mean? Was she somewhere close by? And where were her captors? He ever so slowly
opened the door just enough to ease his body
through... (Gene)

...and standing before him not fifteen feet away were the men he had so long searched for and in a small wagon just beyond where they stood was his daughter. She was sitting there wrapped in a old piece of deer hide. As he looked towards her a thought crept into his mind, "what now?" He sat back a minute and realized he had almost no chance at making it out alive. Terror began to engulf his mind for all he had was a gun and a dog. And his daughter...would she now have to witness him being slain as she had seen her mother two years before? For a moment, he closed his eyes and said a small prayer. Then he took to his feet, motioned for Dawg to stay. He turned around looking towards the door...(sdg)

...urely the indians had seen the smoke from the fire but they did not know that Rutt had seen them. Rutt's only advantage being outnumbered the way he was, was surprise. He slipped out of the little house and into the rain. His best chance would be in sneaking up on them and not letting them know where he was or that he was alone. Dawg slipped out behind Rutt and Rutt had to physically restrain him to keep him from running into the bunch of indians and getting himself shot. He and the dog snuck away into the night to wait for the indians to claim the little sod house, at which point he would attack and reclaim his child. (Cindi)


**Now I gotta go get some stuff done so you guys can go on with this or leave it til later it's up to you....chow for now. Cindi




Gene SC    Posted 02-26-2004 at 10:49:51       [Reply]  [No Email]
As Rutt And Dawg made their way through the
night to the small grove of trees just behind
the house, he was aware of the cold. The rain
had stopped but the grass and brush was wet. As
they sat there in the dark he suddenly heard
movment off to his left. He held his breath and
strained his eyes to see through the night.
Suddenly he was relieved to see his horse
slowly making his way to him. He had apparently
broke loose during the storm and took shelter
among the trees........


deadcarp    Posted 02-26-2004 at 14:29:09       [Reply]  [No Email]
"Steady boy" Rett said as he fumbled thru his saddlebag, lifted the flap that shielded the button he was mashing and said in a hushed voice "Hello Onstar?"

(oh man i did it again didn't i? sorry gene but i guess recess wasn't long enough today - and the sadddle's still in the shack isn't it? :) lol

uhhhhhhh- good work - go ahead :)


Gene SC Deadca    Posted 02-26-2004 at 14:46:12       [Reply]  [No Email]
Cindi may can use that as an ending
"This is onstar how may I help you" LOL


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