The Winding Northward Road

by Rambling Writer

Day 14

Oh, sure. Nothing bad happened on the day of the unlucky number, but bad stuff happens on the day of the lucky number times 2.

Well, it’s not that bad. Everything’s fixed now and we didn’t lose too much time. But I KNEW something bad was going to happen in the Hayseed Swamps. Should’ve said, “I told you so.” to Nutberry.

Was about noon, just after we entered the border of the swamps. The second coach (that’s the one on the end) was almost empty, and we’d drop it off at the next town; through the swamp was just the fastest route. Everyone was confident that we’d have a quick trip, and they knew what was supposed to be a hard road.

But the ground didn’t feel right, and when Ann checked the wheels, they were sinking into the mud slightly. We’d lost the road somehow. (When we got to the village, we learned that a new weather pegasus had made it rain where it wasn’t supposed to rain and the start of the swamp road had been washed over.) Ann told us to wait for a little while she went around to find harder ground, and, well, you can imagine what happened. Not moving, we started sinking into the mud.

She was only gone a few minutes, but we were struggling against the mud before she was back. It didn’t suck us down, but it was hard to pull up and get good footing, especially with four of us strapped to the coach hitch. The first coach, the one with all the cherries, was soon up to its axles, while the other wasn’t too bad. Morello, who was the one resting at the moment, tried to pull us out all at once, but quickly gave up and had us unhitch; it was easier that way. Monty was out when Ann got back, and she helped us all get out soon after.

The coaches were a bigger problem; they had all our goods and were stuck a lot more than us. We got the second one to the road after ten minutes of digging and pulling, but the first one was a lot harder. It was so deep we could barely get it up. I suggested using a dead tree for a lever to try to get under it, but I forgot we didn’t have a good place to put a fulcrum. Still, the basic idea worked fine, although we used the tree we found more like a crowbar than a lever. It took over an hour, but we got it out. Neither coach was too damaged, thankfully. Morello said one of the wheels on the first one might be a bit warped, but it’d be fine until we reached Baltimare. We moved extra fast in the afternoon to make up for lost time (luckily dropping off the second coach in the meantime), and now I’m all tired out. I’m having trouble staying awake enough to write this. Not just me, either; everyone just ate their dinner and went to sleep. This journal’s the only reason I’m not asleep, too.

Checked my map, tomorrow looks pretty uneventful. Might not write anything.

[Editor’s note: the following is hastily, densely, and haphazardly scribbled in small letters before the start of the next entry.]

Crap forgot to write a poem for last time
Are Forgetful minds
Busy ones? Did lots of work,
Forgot to haiku.

Comments

[Bluecatcinema]

Not bad so far, but it wouldn't hurt for the chapters to be a little longer.