Wednesday, 6 April 2011

Amelia (Stagecoach) Meadows

Dust plumed up into the air, spiralling and swirling behind the runaway stagecoach. The thunder of hooves and the creaking of wood deafened her ears as she skidded to a standstill in the dirt track wake of the carriage.  Seven years she had been in this game, and it didn't get any easier. Leaping from a runaway wagon still hurt like hell, as much as it did the first time.  Ah but this time, this time the reward got just that little bit sweeter! This time her chips had really come in.

She got to her feet and patted the dust from her leathers and stood, ready to inspect her haul. Her cheek stung from hitting the ground and her knuckles were raw, but the thrill of the heist and beauty of the bounty made her tingle.    She sighed deeply, proudly, and pulled the pouch open, eager to see again that which now belonged to her. She peered inside and caught her breath; 'this day,' she thought, 'this day is the day that I made history.'

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