Living The Best Life

By the end of Sammy's hellish gauntlet, my heart was left pumping only pure adrenaline. Even the air felt like static, I couldn't so much as breathe without feeling the amp of a thousand defibrillators transcending my soul to a different plane of consciousness. 

The field used to be a beautiful place—a pasture of bountiful greens for sheep to graze and horses to frolic. Claiming that we live on a farm would just be flat-out lying now. A derby was more like it; childhood memories of sprinting through reeds and flowers overtaken by ramps, barricades, two-meter high jumps, and pretty much everything else in between.

I hitched Lyn by a fence way outside the perimeter of the proving grounds, and we both hopped down onto the dirt. Sammy was staggering, laughing, still coming down from the high of what it felt like to be a ragdoll strapped on a raging bull. And for a while there, so was I; until I took a second look back at all the carnage we've caused.