Sunday, January 3, 2010

Flash Fiction




Arrowhead Road the novel

The opening days of the great prairie land sensed a new focus, but not the transcendence many would come to expect in this wide open place. A train of wagons would evoke a memory for years to come, and there would be no redemption for the prairie Indians' life of perfection, Not today, not ever.

Feather jumped up on her pony and road along the ridge, her grass-stained leather flowing in the wind, to view the coming wagons. A clutch of buffalo caught sight of her and let loose a wild silence of disinterest. Feather imagined this quiet solitude as the sound of her young life.

The buffalo wars were about to be over, thanks to a high flying culture just on the horizon.

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