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74 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

except my own breathing. I was having a hard time holding my self in that position. Upside

down. Headfirst, holding on with just the sides of my hands. I didn’t know how far I would

drop, if I just let go. There might be a pool of water below me but, probably not because of the

way the hole was situated on the slope of the hill plus, this was the desart. I might fall to my

death in an endless pit or it might only be two or three feet. Just then, I heard a sound. It was a

muffled sound like someone trying to talk but something was covering her mouth.

HER mouth! I knew it was Rosemarie. I had tried twice to back out of the hole but was having

no luck. They say that being scared can give you extreme strength. I guess it’s true, because I

backed out far enough to get out again to get my rifle. When I started down the hole again, I

used my rifle as a feeler. I felt nothing. I was holding the barrel of the rifle in front of me, being

careful to not let any mud or dirt plug the end. with one hand and holding my self from falling

straight down with the other. I couldn’t straighten my arm doing this without slipping straight

down but I could tell I would fall no less than two or three feet. Again I heard something. A

voice this time and not too far away

It was the man talking.

“Your father better come out where I can kill him, or I’m going to kill you. I know I will not

live long, because after you are dead, I will have no bargaining power.”

I heard no more sounds. I hung there, suspended like a bat. Upside down until my head was

throbbing. Finally I had to do something so I fired my rifle. The shot was deafening. It turned

out to be a good thing to do though, when dirt splattered back into my face, I knew I wouldn’t

fall far. A shot rang out underneath me and at that time, I fell down. I barley had time to tuck

my feet and roll into a ball. I landed on my back and kept rolling. Another blast from what I

believed to be a rifle.

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