Spring will come...by
JohannesFrankComment by K3Master: He lay there, having long since expended his energy calling for help. Lay there with a broken handle, and unable to turn himself over again. Lay there in the bitter winds and harsh landscape of the open plains, alone.
He knew that this was probably the end. It was getting cold. So cold. He moved in and out of feverish dreams and hallucinations. Gardening tools of his past came and went from his thoughts. His father, the riding mower. His mother, the Garden Weasel. Little Jenny, the fan rake, who he swore he would marry one day.
A tear slipped down his tire, and dropped into the dead and frozen grass, as life slipped from him slowly, and he began to succumb to the elements.
It was then, on the verge of his consciousness, that he heard the shout, and his mind told him that it was only another vision. It wasn't real. There was no-one out here. He would die alone.
The shouts grew louder, and stronger, and then they were there. A couple of hiking Dollies. They rushed over to him, and his miracle came true.
