Snowmobiling: an excerpt from A Strangled Rose

Since I have less than a week to get ready for #PitMad I figured I’d post twice today because you probably won’t hear from me until the 26th.

Keeping with the spirit of March here is an excerpt from A Strangled Rose:

November 8th, 2013

I soaked in the sights through the tinted visor of my black, TXI AC helmet. Sparkling, brilliant white snow as far as the eye could see. Jake and I flew through the powdery flakes– atop dense, packed-down snowmobile trails– on our matching ebony-and-silver Arctic Cat ZR 5000 sleds we’d just purchased to blow off steam.

Dressed in our Arcticwear– the dealer threw in to secure the sale– we buzzed through trees, around stumps, over rocks and makeshift bridges, until eventually we reached the power lines. The power lines were an ideal spot to snowmobile, in my opinion. You can take off like a rocket– throttle wide-open– and scream down the trails with no worries about slamming into an obstruction or becoming stuck where the snow isn’t yet groomed.

As we rode, I thought about all the horrific things I’d witnessed lately through dreams, glimpses, and now visions I conjured myself. The Wolf and his handy-work. The unnecessary slaughter of human life. The evil deeds still happening in our backyard. And I wondered if we were truly safe.

Jude and Marnie seemed like they were avoiding us lately, and I did not understand why. What changed between us? Did they think their lives could be in jeopardy by associating with us?

Jake twisted in his seat, glanced back over his shoulder and flipped me the thumbs-up. I giggled to myself. We needed this day. A day to clear our minds. Our thoughts. And just have fun, even if only for a couple of hours.

Jake swerved abruptly, sharply, nearly missing a utility pole.

 

I squeezed my brake handle and broke left. Then I saw it: a moose carcass. Disemboweled. Eviscerated.

Pools of blood had seeped into the crystal-white snow and dyed it pink. Its rear hind quarter was non-existent. Viciously torn off and taken away– leaving a trail of blood and pieces of flesh  disseminated  over the tracks, continuing for several yards to the woods. Many different sized paw-prints darted off in multiple directions. No doubt a feeding frenzy by a pack of hungry wolves.

The dead moose was on its side– it was no match for the pack.

I stepped closer– dropped to my knees– and sobbed for the innocent life lost. Cried for every murder victim. Sobbed for Jake and I. For our fresh start. Our new life. For every lost moment. Every sleepless night. I cried and wailed and yelled. Threw myself on my back, punched, kicked, and stomped my feet in the snow.

Right there in the middle of the power lines– a heavily traveled recreation spot– I totally came unglued.

Jake stood over me, brows clenched tightly, head cocked. Speechless, not knowing what to say or do.

Feeling his presence I quieted. I opened my eyes and rolled up to my feet and trudged back through the snow to my sled, as if I hadn’t just made a spectacle of myself.

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