Fiction: The River

Robbo! · 11-02-2009, 05:29 PM

I originally wrote this on another, wedgie-based, site. This was written there roughly two years ago. It doesn't involve TorD, nor does it truly involve masters/servants, but it's captivating & some stuff can be part of/used as dares.

So Without Further Ado; THE RIVER

Prologue

He couldn't, he wouldn't. Not never, not ever. He would never stop running. No stopping. Not now, not ever, not never. Not with them chasing him. He had his revenge. "This is it. This is what living is all about." He thought to himself. Running, running. Losing breath but gaining, gaining. He turned his head to look for them, and there they were a long distance behind him. He knew where he was going. He was heading toward the river. Nobody goes to the river late at night.

He kept running, running, running on the cold railroad tracks. It was late summer, though, and the night was still warm. He was approaching the bridge. It was about a football-field length away. But he had slowed and his pursuers had closed in on him. Also, in the distance, he could see a light far on the other side of the bridge. He ran that distance and was at the start of the bridge. The teens who chased him were twenty, maybe thirty feet away.

The train bridge spanned the Yellow River near the small town of Hickory. It was twenty feet above the water, which was about fifteen feet deep. The bridge was still frequented by trains, but it will be torn down one day.

He stopped at the start of the bridge. He needed to cross, he knew it. He could die otherwise. Gently, he tested the first plank suspended above the ground. It gave way. He tested the second one and it could hold him. He made sure to keep one foot on a rail, just in case. He smoothly, cautiously made his way across the bridge. The boys who were chasing him had stopped, for they didn't want to risk crossing the bridge. They started, instead throwing rocks at him. One rock hit him and bounced onto the plank in front of him and the plank cracked and tumbled into the river. He didn't dare go any farther. He couldn't go the other way though, so he decided to continue, risking his life as he was half way across the bridge.

But he saw the light again on the other side of the bridge. This time it was brighter, closer. It was accompanied by a whistle. The yells of the tormentors (or tormented, thanks to him) confirmed his worst fears.

"TRAIN!!" The boys ran off into the night, leaving their victim and victor in the middle of the bridge to be run over and killed.

He couldn't die to a train.

The train's brakes squealed, but the train was too close. It was going to run over him, unless he acted swiftly.

Quickly thinking, the boy jumped. He hoped to grab onto a piece of wood or something connected to the bridge as he fell, but he couldn't.

He fell into the water with a roaring splash and the night was calm for a second. Under the water, he was calm, cool, and collected. It was cold, spring-fed water, though.

He had misjudged the intensity of the current, though, and as soon as he could think, the river was washing him down. He struggled to try and get up to the surface to breathe, but he couldn't. His underwear had been caught under a heavy rock.

He struggled and struggled, but the current was pushing him down, worsening the wedgie. If he could only get this undone, he could swim to the surface and breathe. But he couldn't. There wasn't enough time. His hands gave way to exhaustion and he passed out on the bottom of the Yellow River.

11-02-2009, 05:29 PM	#1
Robbo! getDare Sweetheart Join Date: Nov 2009 Posts: 261 Blog Entries: 6	The River I originally wrote this on another, wedgie-based, site. This was written there roughly two years ago. It doesn't involve TorD, nor does it truly involve masters/servants, but it's captivating & some stuff can be part of/used as dares. So Without Further Ado; THE RIVER Prologue He couldn't, he wouldn't. Not never, not ever. He would never stop running. No stopping. Not now, not ever, not never. Not with them chasing him. He had his revenge. "This is it. This is what living is all about." He thought to himself. Running, running. Losing breath but gaining, gaining. He turned his head to look for them, and there they were a long distance behind him. He knew where he was going. He was heading toward the river. Nobody goes to the river late at night. He kept running, running, running on the cold railroad tracks. It was late summer, though, and the night was still warm. He was approaching the bridge. It was about a football-field length away. But he had slowed and his pursuers had closed in on him. Also, in the distance, he could see a light far on the other side of the bridge. He ran that distance and was at the start of the bridge. The teens who chased him were twenty, maybe thirty feet away. The train bridge spanned the Yellow River near the small town of Hickory. It was twenty feet above the water, which was about fifteen feet deep. The bridge was still frequented by trains, but it will be torn down one day. He stopped at the start of the bridge. He needed to cross, he knew it. He could die otherwise. Gently, he tested the first plank suspended above the ground. It gave way. He tested the second one and it could hold him. He made sure to keep one foot on a rail, just in case. He smoothly, cautiously made his way across the bridge. The boys who were chasing him had stopped, for they didn't want to risk crossing the bridge. They started, instead throwing rocks at him. One rock hit him and bounced onto the plank in front of him and the plank cracked and tumbled into the river. He didn't dare go any farther. He couldn't go the other way though, so he decided to continue, risking his life as he was half way across the bridge. But he saw the light again on the other side of the bridge. This time it was brighter, closer. It was accompanied by a whistle. The yells of the tormentors (or tormented, thanks to him) confirmed his worst fears. "TRAIN!!" The boys ran off into the night, leaving their victim and victor in the middle of the bridge to be run over and killed. He couldn't die to a train. The train's brakes squealed, but the train was too close. It was going to run over him, unless he acted swiftly. Quickly thinking, the boy jumped. He hoped to grab onto a piece of wood or something connected to the bridge as he fell, but he couldn't. He fell into the water with a roaring splash and the night was calm for a second. Under the water, he was calm, cool, and collected. It was cold, spring-fed water, though. He had misjudged the intensity of the current, though, and as soon as he could think, the river was washing him down. He struggled to try and get up to the surface to breathe, but he couldn't. His underwear had been caught under a heavy rock. He struggled and struggled, but the current was pushing him down, worsening the wedgie. If he could only get this undone, he could swim to the surface and breathe. But he couldn't. There wasn't enough time. His hands gave way to exhaustion and he passed out on the bottom of the Yellow River.