last oldie...can't think of a pithy description

[quickbeard]

The birds stopped their singing in wonder when they heard BobbyJo joyfully
whistling as she walked through the woods towards Miller's creek. The feel of
the warm summer sun on her skin, and the freedom to go fishing made her so glad
that she had to restrain herself from skipping like a schoolgirl, mainly because
skipping and thongs don't mix. Any creature lucky enough to encounter her as she
walked would have stared in amazement at her long curly black hair, her long
legs that showed all the way up to her cut-off jeans, her slender bare midriff,
or her beautiful breasts that strained against the cut t-shirt that barely
covered them in their dance. With her fishing pole over one shoulder, creel and
tackle in her other hand, and her lucky lure cap that her father had given her,
she was ready to take on any fish that the creek should offer. Soon she was
sitting by the side of the lazy creek, her rod resting in it's cup with the bell
to warn her of a nibble. She let her feet dangle in the water, and rested
against a tree trunk, with her father's cap over her face to cover it from the
glare of the sun. Soon the warm sunlight and lapping of the water made her nod
off.
Suddenly, the sound of the bell caused her to start, the hat dropping by her
side, as she lunged to get the rod and set the hook. But the fish had eluded
her, and she reeled in an empty hook. She baited the hook anew, and cast it
again into the creek; turning just in time to watch as a gust of wind caught
hold of her lucky cap and sent it dancing down the slope of the riverbank. With
a cry, she chased it as it tumbled across the grassy glen. She almost had it
when a final gust of wind contemptuously took it and sent it soaring across a
smooth clearing to lie atop a tree root that protruded out of the ground.
BobbyJo started forward to reclaim her hat, then stopped suddenly as she
recognized the area that she stood by....Miller's folly.....the quicksand pit...
She stomped her foot in anger and watched as the surface of the sand rippled in
laces, as if it recognized her closeness from the vibration. "Damn it, no silly
mud hole is going to take my dad's hat from me!". She walked around the
clearing, looking at it from all angles, and realized that even with a stick
that there was no way that she could reach it from the edge. She would have to
be within the radius of the pit itself if she was to reclaim the hat. There was
only one way...she found a stout sapling by the edge and tested its strength and
anchor. Yes!, this would help her. She twisted her left wrist through the leaf
strewn foliage, and taking a sure grip onto the sapling with her hand, she
quickly took a large step forward with her right foot, lest she lose her nerve.
The feel of her left foot on solid ground, and the sapling's resistance gave her
courage as she felt the sand shift beneath her bare foot.
Straining to reach the cap, she felt the sandy goo at first resist her pressure.
It roiled thickly over the sides of her foot and through her toes, leaving a
hole that slowly, very slowly, filled in to cover the top of her foot and ankle.
She leaned forward pushing down with her foot for leverage, unconsciously
rocking her foot, toes then heel, deeper into the now softening sand. The hole
filled in completely, and now her calf was claimed in payment for her
trespassing. Now her fingers were inches away from the hat, and she had to
loosen her grip slightly on the branch, mindful of her right leg as the mud was
inches away from soaking into the bottom hem of her cutoff jeans. She lunged
forward, and success!!, she reclaimed the cap, and tossed it carefully into some
nearby bushes, knowing that the thorns would keep it from being windblown again.
Now all that she had to do was rescue herself.
Both hands on the branch now, she strained to pull her leg free from the
quicksand's soft warm suction. Slowly, while the mud protested with gurgles and
sucking noises, her leg began to emerge from the bog. Soon, her knee was showing
on the surface, and for more leverage, she had to kneel with her other knee on
the top of the quicksand; counting on the initial resistance to keep that leg
from going under. Now she was close to victory, as she stood up, both feet
submerged above the ankles, her legs an interesting study in contrast... one
smooth and clean as only a young woman's can be, the other hidden almost
shapeless by the thick, drying mud. But now victory was literally snatched from
her grasp as the leafy end of the sapling, finally overstressed, slipped from
her fingers, throwing her backwards in surprise. She windmilled wildly, finally
catching herself with one hand, which sank readily into the moist sand to almost
her elbow. She pulled on her arm, struggling to regain her balance, and now
stood straight once more, gazing past her muddy arm down to where her knees were
disappearing from her view. Not quite believing that she had gotten herself into
this mess, she pushed down experimentally with first one foot, and then the
other, trying to feel some kind of hard surface beneath her feet. But all she
could feel was the slow current of the wet sand around her feet and legs...a
current that could now be felt on her inner thighs because of her movements.
She panicked, rocking from side to side trying to free even just one of her
legs, hands trust beneath the mud as she clutched and pulled at her vanishing
leg. The mud tasted the bottom of her jeans, and apparently liked what it got,
because it gulped her swiftly downward as she struggled. Temporarily exhausted
from her struggle, she paused....one dark brown arm floating on top of the bog,
the other submerged to near the elbow, her hips and navel long gone beneath the
surface. Her breasts heaved as she tried to catch her breath. The surface of the
quicksand quivered slightly with each deep breath as the bare part of her
breasts beneath the shirt touched the moist sand and then leapt free. She held
still, hating the normal sounds of the creek and the birds. After all, they
ought to at least be paying attention to her plight.
Slowly, she settled deeper into the muck, her breasts now freely floating. The
moisture from the sand was wicked up through the cloth of her shirt, proving
that she would have won any wet t-shirt contest if she could only survive this
one. She tried pushing it away with her free hand, but it only made her breasts
be covered faster by the rebounding waves of the goo. She watched helplessly as
the mud covered her nipples, and crept up her cleavage. Now she paused in her
downward journey, only her shoulders showing above the quicksand.
She desperately she continued her struggle mentally, trying to come up with some
idea of how to break free from her trap. Then she remembered the root that her
hat had landed on....if there was one, perhaps there were others feeding the
surrounding trees. Carefully, she reached out and felt beneath the surface for
the tickle of a root on her hand. Even this slight movement caused her to sink
more, and she was about to give up in despair, her shoulders barely showing;
when she felt it...the lifesaving touch of a submerged tree root. Grasping it
carefully with both hands entwined around the root, she began to pull herself
free from the bog's embrace. Soon, her chest and waist were clear, and she was
able to reach a bush. Finally, she stood shakily on firm ground, looking like
some primordialEve. From the neck down, she was covered with a coating of thick
brown mud; the only part of her free of the stuff was her face and the hair on
the crown of her head, and even that was splattered.
She plucked the precious hat from the bush, and staggered back to her tree,
where she could wash her new covering off, in the creek. But before she could
clean herself, she had one more surprise waiting. The bell on the pole clanged
loudly, and the tip bent dangerously as something big tried to get away with the
bait. Valiantly, she worked, playing her line; obviously she had hooked a big
one! Finally, she stood proudly with her prize and laughed uproariously. She had
caught the biggest, oldest fish in the creek.....her twin....a mudcat.

[Viridian]

Didn't realise you wrote this one. I had this one saved on my computer as well. One of my early favourites.

[YerKiddin]

This is my favorite story. (You'd think I'd save it, but I've had more than one hard drive fail since the first time I read it) It's also the first story I read, long ago, when I first discovered this topic, almost 20 years ago.

This story would SO make for a nice film. (though I imagine finding the right actress would be quite a challenge)

[water_bug_62208]

I do believe I remember this story from the early days when I discovered Quicksandland, back when Kaol's Ol' Sinkin' Hole and Stormwind's old site were around. Thanks for sharing!