Andrew Benson
Bio
Gardener, thinker, traveler (pre-Covid that is).
Like to play a little guitar and don't mind big ones either.
Stories (3)
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Mary's Gold
It was a cold, wet night. A harsh wind blew from the East, pelting the windows on the side of the Holden Rodeo. Torrents flowed across the front windshield , the wipers straining under the water's weight. Joe pressed his chest against the steering wheel, eyes focused on what he could barely make out of the road ahead. Earlier in the afternoon as light was fading into glowing oranges and dusty browns, a wallaby had sprung out of nowhere catching the right headlamp before landing with a horrible thump. Joe had pulled to a stop on the roadside and walked back to the injured animal. He looked around for a large rock in order to do the humane thing, but there were none, so he moved the shaking animal to the roadside curb and left it. Again he felt overwhelmed with a sense of hopelessness and anger at himself. 'You useless, old man. All you ever do is wreck things.'
By Andrew Benson5 years ago in Families
