Story Weaving! Have at it!

[EarlJam]

Rules:

This is a Beta Test "50-Post" story, meaning the person that makes the 50th post is obligated to wrap up the story. I will start the tale (rules for starting the story do not apply but I will follow them after first post). Please post and be creative. You may post as often as you like but not back to back. Each post may include a maximum of four sentences. It can be less than four as well. Also, each sentence must contain at least three words. So, let us begin the first on-line CrazieTalk short story....

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"Shit," a bewildered Dale exclaimed while bending over and breathing heavily after coming to a merciful stop just five steps deep into the forest. As he finalized plans just 22 hours ago, Dale, as always, had thought of everything. Rain? No problem. Snow? Got it. Thunderstorm? Check. But sleet? Are you kidding? Sleet? Ever try to run a long distance in heavy sleet?

"Shit."

Dale Stride was no stranger to running......and winning. A two-time winner of the D.C. Diamonds of Distance marathon and a one-time top ten Boston Marathon finisher at the youthful age of 19 had made Dale, now 26, a legend in his community, his state, his own mind, and the undercover agency for which he worked.

Now, on this most wintry and bitter skin-lashing nights in the hills of western Maryland, Dale found himself begging for air... for relief. He had to keep running. Running was Dale's area of expertise. Dale knew how to run with the best of them.

"Yeah, 'a runner,' and wouldn't Jenny agree with that," he thought as he allowed a brief smile to interrupt this dour eeriest of nights.

His brief thought was interrupted by a sound that was far from the sound a squirrel would make....far from the sound a falling branch or sleet would make; far from anything....natural.

[Ima Facultiwyfe]

Yes, most definitely far from natural. Could it be some animals baying at the moon or bemoaning the lost? Now it was getting louder....closer....and he could tell now that it was coming from two different directions. ,,,,first from his left and then from his right. There it was again, sadder, sounding more agonizing each time. Suddenly, they emerged over the hill behind him, sad, forlorn figures all staring forward in zombie-like fashion as in a funeral march and then their mournful, hidious chant became clear.

"Tarrrrrrrrr! Heeeeeeeels! Tarrrrrrrrrr Heeeeeeels?"