One beautiful night in the peaceful town of Dicerton an old van chugged along on the street. It went past large corn fields and farms. All of a sudden one of the back tires burst and the van careened down a hill. It smashed into a guiderail in front of some trees and a mighty poplar fell just to be caught by an electrical wire. The van and its screaming occupants went the rest of the way down the hill, over a tiny bridge, and off to who knows where.
The next morning another van came down the hill to fix the guiderail and wires. Egbert Saintson lugged himself out of the driver’s seat and lit a cigarette. He was a large fellow with a bald head and scratchy stubble. Egbert latched on his shiny safety vest that all of the workers are supposed to wear and looked around. He saw the tiny forest and lovely river and spat on the ground. He hated nature. The horrible man threw his cigarette into the trees and walked up to the badly dented guiderail.
Egbert started working on detaching the guiderail as a cherry picker started fixing the wires above him. More men came to help him with the guiderail and it finally came off the side of the hill. The workers shoved it away and started picking up the new one that they were going to put in. Egbert lifted his head. He heard a noise coming from the rail-less hill. It was like the groaning and shifting of rock. Suddenly, the hill gave in and tumbled down onto the street . The wave of soil struck Egbert and carried him down the hill along with the cherry picker. The wave started nearing the small bridge over the river. The man in the basket of the cherry picker leaped out of it in an attempt to save his life. He splashed into the water and gulped for air. The bewildered Egbert was now on the bridge and the cherry picker’s shattered arm extended down into the river. As the basket touched the water a surge of electricity coursed through the river. The man still in the water writhed in pain as the electric shock snuck into body. Foam gurgled out of his mouth and he sank beneath the water.
Egbert struggled to get up, but the bridge cracked and leaned down toward the water with Egbert only about five meters away. The guiderail on the bridge kept him from falling. The bridge creaked a little and started moving down. Egbert clapped his sweaty hands together and started praying. The only problem was that he didn’t know who to pray to. The bridge moved a little bit more and Egbert fell. He grabbed the rail on the bridge and he dangled by his one hand. His cigarette packs fell out of his pockets and fell in the water, instantly going up in smoke. Egbert scrunched up his eyes and winced. When he thought that he was about to let go, he heard sirens and shouts fill his ears. Egbert opened his eyes. There was hope. He could still make it. Then he fell.
