He Stopped His Harley at 3 AM for a Cry in the Dark and Found a Dying Dog With a Child’s Prayer Tied Around Her Neck
The road was empty. Just me, my bike, and the soft rustle of wind brushing through the trees. It was just after three in the morning when the old Cedar Creek Bridge appeared, half-shrouded in moonlight. The kind of place that felt a little spooky no matter how many times you passed it. My bike sputtered suddenly, a harsh metallic rattle that made my stomach twist. I knew that sound. Trouble. I cursed under my breath as the engine coughed one last time and died. I swung my leg off,