Postcard #137: "Cold #8"

Flavor Text:

HORSETAIL FALLS, OREGON

A beautiful view of this 208 foot high falls on the Columbia River Highway – only minutes away from Portland on the New Freeway. ©1969 D.P.I. DT-58413-C

Cold #8

The water around me was eager to carry me to the falls. The tree trunk was turning steadily to its side. My anchor dropped out from under me. I leaped weakly from the trunk to the rock it was resting on. My hand darted about the stone for handholds on its smooth surface. The tree trunk was still sliding to the left and it pushed me back into the water. The water did not feel cold anymore. I felt an edge but before I could slow myself down it caught me in the neck. Ice. Ice still attached to the far shore. I pulled my arm above the cracking ice. The current pulled hard against me and my waterlogged clothes. I was too weak to pull myself out of the water. My vision was blurry. I squeezed them together. It took me a moment to realize the dark blur in front of me was my own arm fumbling around on the ice struggling to keep me above the water. I squeezed my eyes together and breathed deep and when I opened them, I could already see an outstretched hand. The shackles of the river had me by the ankles.

-TM     US-9295161

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to twindaddy.  He is someone who shares my first name, lives in the states, and doesn't care what sort of postcard he gets.   I had high hopes that I would get the rest of the story on a final card. Maybe it will be finished by Cold #9?

Cold Series:
Part 1
Part 2

Part 3

Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7