David Vaughn
Stories (2/0)
Easy Does It
I’m an old guy. Turned 79 a week ago. I don’t play music while I go through my morning regimen of stretches and leg lifts the rheumatologist gave me to combat brucites and arthritis. Maybe I should. I do ask Alexa to play ambient music at night in hope that I’ll more quickly receive a visit from my fickle friend Morpheus, but it doesn’t always work.
By David Vaughn3 years ago in Psyche
The Area of a Circle
“Are you sure you’re going to be OK up here by yourself?” The two men had left Salmon, Idaho, a little after eight that morning. Their fifty-mile drive took them more than two hours. After crossing the river on a one lane bridge west of town they bumped over ever-narrowing gravel roads, crossed a ridge, and dropped into the Panther Creek drainage. For the final eighteen miles the rocky track twisted up hogback ridges and through narrow saddles as tree branches pinstriped the sides of their four-wheel drive pickups and the forest changed from stately yellow-barked Ponderosa to Lodge Pole Pine and Douglas Fir. Turnouts for passing other vehicles were spaced every half mile, but were unneeded. It took them a half hour to shovel their way through a snow drift on a shaded curve a mile above the small clearing where they now stood in front of a sixteen-by-sixteen-foot A-frame cabin.
By David Vaughn3 years ago in Humans