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Post by osnafrank on Aug 16, 2022 9:59:57 GMT
Really enjoyed this, wolfie. 
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Post by wolf on Aug 16, 2022 12:00:04 GMT
I enjoyed it wolf . Reminds me a bit of the Phoenix born from flames... and the creation of a new story rises an old unfinished one. 👍 Really enjoyed this, wolfie.
(lol, I hope mama likes it) |
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Post by wolf on Aug 17, 2022 15:29:57 GMT
I took that last short story, "The Return" and cleaned it up.
And I added in a couple of important details,
that I should have had in it before.
I think it's improved some.
Reposting it in it's entirety here....
"The Return of Dartania"
The large He Wolf lay beside the grave, under the cool shade of surrounding trees. The wilder greenbelt behind the city park, at the edge of Darktown, offered solitude, and he had taken advantage of it. Hours he spent dozing, dreaming and grieving. Finally when the sun began the descent to the distant horizon, he felt rested enough to rise. There was hunting to be done. And he left.
Coyote had been there with him during all those hours, watching. Unseen and unscented, laying low in a nearby thick clutch of brush, not too far from the front of the grave. His eyes followed the wolf as he ambled away from the greenbelt, and back into the edge of Darktown. The Coyote looked back to mound of grave. He would remain here...waiting. For 3 days. He would go eat and drink when he needed to, but most of his time would be spent guarding here....and waiting for what was to come next.
The third day.
The sun was on the rise. The street lights turned off, Tat was up and on the move, and the store owner came to open up shop. Coyote opened his eyes at the feel of the Creator's golden orb's warmth and the sound of His littler thing's birdsong and chittering. He looked to the small burial ground first, yawning and thinking,
"I'm hungry....she'll be hungry too."
He got up and went on a quick breakfast hunt.
The shallow mound of dirt began to move minutely. Something from beneath was beginning to mole up to the surface. A few hours had passed, and Coyotl was back. Laying at the grave side, he noisily relished in having a good chew and gnaw of rabbit meat and bone. Beside him was another rabbit and 2 large old Gatorade bottles, with no labels, filled with water.
He devoured the meat contently and sucked succulent marrow from the broken bones. His eyes never leaving the spot of ground where fingers were clawing through to an urgent emergence. The fingers and whole hand came up. He kept watching. The wrist and then the arm, as the other hand came breaking through and clawing at the loose dirt.
Dartania's head came gasping up when both arms, splayed out on the grave top, braced and shoved down to push up hard with immense strength, hoisting her head and shoulders through and out. Her legs were frantically at work as well. Still Coyote watched eating his breakfast. She managed to get a foothold, down there somewhere, while choking and coughing out dry earth, she flew upward from the grave to mid thigh. For a moment she looked like a beautiful, filthy sea creature breaching up through the waves of soil she flung everywhere. Coyote chuckled at the sight, narrowing his eye lids and lowering his throat to cover the last remains of his morning meal...
Her head spinning with confusion and need of air, Dartania stood, breathing in deep and raggedly. Bending at the waist she leaned forward and planted her palms on the mound edge in front of the coyote, staring at him bewilderedly. Struggling underground, she caught another good foothold and raised up enough to free her knees. With that done, she was able to sit back and rest a moment, catch her breath and try to get her bearings. 3 days in the ground could do strange things to a person's mind and body...let alone being shot through the head.
Coyote grinned and wagged his tail,
"Mornin' Wolf Woman."
Dartania was still not ready to speak, though she felt like she could. The coyote appeared to be safe enough and friendly, so she finally took her gaze away from him. She shook her head furiously, like a dog shaking off water from his newly finished bath, tossing more dirt everywhere and clearing her ears. She snorted out, ridding her nose of the last of it. When she opened her eyes again she looked around. She recognized the Greenbelt behind the park. She'd hunted here before. It was a good place she liked, and as the coyote in front of her, it felt safe enough.
Coyote cocked his ears, and craned his neck to look at both sides of the wolf woman's head. Both entry and exit wounds were closed and healed, he could see, through the blood matted hair around them.
"Feeling better?
Hungry?
...got you food and water"
he asked, and told her cheerfully.
Dartania looked back down to the sound of his easy voice. Everything was starting to register and become clearer to her. But he was a puzzling creature she'd not seen the likes of before.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I am Coyote." he replied patiently.
"I know you're a coyote. But WHO are you?"
Dartainia persisted, as her eyes darted to the skinned rabbit and the old Gatorade bottles filled with water.
Quickly her mind kicked into gear and she thought,
'Skinned rabbit. Human hands did that'.
and on seeing the bottles of water...
'Tatty!'
.....with her last vision of Tatty's smiling face flashing in her mind's eyes, she exclaimed,
"You got that water from Tatty!
Does he have enough for himself for today!?"
Coyote remained patiently silent, as it was all coming back to her, thinking
'She's back.'
Dartania knew Tat and his habits. He carried all he owned with him daily, so he traveled light, and normally had only two bottles of water with him at any time. Sometimes Tatty neglected himself in these habits of his. And fresh Gatorade bottles were often hard for him to come by.
"You got PLENTY questions, woman. Listen now."
Coyote said calmly, and went on with...
"I gave him new, cold Gatorade for this water.
And he got skins to make a hat for the cold moons.
I showed him how to do it too.
It is a good trade for him."
Dartania's brain fog was gone now. She was grateful that this new comer was kind to her friend, so she slowed her roll on the interrogation, though he was still so strange and puzzling to her and she craved more answers. She nodded to him,
"....oh good....I worry for him."
She paused, trying to be patient herself. Her eyes and knitted brow told Coyote everything he needed to know. He silently gave her soft spoken permission to insist with her queries, with a languid blink of his eyes.
(not unlike the way a cat will purr and blink at you with
an 'i love you' when you are speaking to them lovingly)
"Ask. I will answer." he stated.
Her mind reeled with so much she needed to know and had to say. She took a breath and thought a minute before speaking. She would try to go slow and wait for the answers she was desperate to learn.
"Thank you for the food and water,
and taking care of Tat.
WHO are you?
WHAT are you?...a were creature like me?"
she asked carefully.
Dartania and Mack were werewolves. Their 'turn' was an amalgamating into creatures that were a 'whole conglomerate' of wolf and man together. Never turned fully into a wolf's form, as this talking coyote before her was. Coyote knew this, and that she'd never seen anything like HIM. Coyote was a Shape Shifter, that could shift from a coyote to man, and all points in between.
"The same as you. Not the same as you.
Like you, I am another kind of 'Other'.
There are many 'different ones' all over our world.
Mm...and all the worlds."
Dartania nodded, she was trying to understand.
"I don't know what that means."
Coyote then sat bolt upright, head and ears held high, his eyes widened and riveted hers as he answered with a definite and sure air of authority,
"It's alright. You don't have to.
Just know that it is.
I am a coyote, but more.
I am 'COYOTE'.
First Coyote....
though I have many names.
I am God's Dog.
And I was sent here to help you.
The winds came and sang to me,
they told what The Creator had for me to do."
Dartania now knew she was in the presence of a powerful being, who was far older and more knowing than herself (and even Mack).
"What is that?
And why me?...
what am I to do...
after 'this'?"
she asked solemnly and respectfully.
Old Man Coyote (who was sometimes known to be a great trickster god) then relaxed his stance and gaze. With tongue lolling and tail wagging he answered yet again,
"Dunno, Wolf Woman! Not my business!"
he laughed.
But on seeing the little hurt in her eyes, that Dartania tried to hide, he became more serious and stepped forward to give her cheek a quick friendly lick. He rubbed his head to hers and quietly told her,
"Whatever you are meant to do,
you will know when the time or times come, child.
Right now you need to wash your face and hands,
eat,
and drink.
Then go see what comes next.
Mm...personally?
I think your work on this good world is not done.
Not just ANYONE gets brought back like YOU have.
THAT is big Medicine.
When you're fed and watered,
go find that He Wolf of yours.
You and he have good big works to do.
...I'm thinkin'."
Dartania smiled relief and hugged his neck. She got her legs completely free from the grave. She washed, ate and drank.
They talked more, and Coyote told her everything he could before he and the She Wolf said good-byes. They parted, and moved on to all the whatevers that were to come next.
The End
-Wolf
(Author’s Note for the Playground….
I put this one Short short story in spoilers out of consideration for my fellow authors of last year's Halloween Story. The only reason I felt comfortable enough to write and post this, is because I created the characters "Mack, Dartania and Tatty". Lol, "Coyote" I did not create. The Great Spirit did that. ❤....but Old Man Coyote is a good friend of mine. I've known him for many, many Moons...many, turns of the Summers and Winters.🙂❤ )
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Post by osnafrank on Aug 18, 2022 15:22:42 GMT
Damn cool, wolfie.
I like Dartania. 
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Post by wolf on Aug 18, 2022 15:31:21 GMT
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Post by diobolic on Aug 18, 2022 16:27:05 GMT
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Post by wolf on Aug 18, 2022 16:47:01 GMT
😂  bokoebaFTerAfwUuywKb
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Post by wolf on Nov 4, 2022 14:51:45 GMT
I've got a new short story in mind.
'Dreamed' it up this morning,
it's going to be that kind of weather day....
"The Tornado"
(a story from The Neighborhood)
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Post by wolf on Nov 23, 2022 7:16:43 GMT
Introduction
There are 9 Choirs of Angels.
The lowest choir being "angels",
always spelled with the lower case "a".
SOMETIMES all of these Angels do more than one job,
and their realms of power and works intersect, intertwine and/or overlap.
Whether they are disembodied or embodied,
matters not.
All 'things' are mutable.
Members of these 9 Choirs are found to be
on 'both sides' of 'the Other Side'
and all points in between....including the mortal planes.
Often some of the lowest, in some ways, can be even more powerful the highest.
Here is their Hierarchy,
from highest to lowest....
Seraphim
Cherubim
Thrones
Virtues
Principalities
Powers
Dominions (also known as Dominations)
Archangels
angels
"Beautiful Fallen, Falling the Fall"
Grayly drifting down,
sad gaunt faced angels.
Faded and dried leaves.
Rising and falling rushes of wind,
Arcing wings shaking branches arms,
bending down in low bows,
Dominantly kissing the earth.
Powerful winter's coming,
the cold Principal death.
White cloud masses,
mask the mourning sun,
Virtuously sealing away his warmth,
sighing with resign, obeying.
Water's and field's Thrones chilling.
Cherubic grieving moans heralding,
icy white Seraphic snows.
Wheel turned once more,
the winters must,
has to be,
to eventually usher in the glory birth.
- Wolf
"The Tornado"
(A story from the Neighborhood)
Angel answered the knock at the front door, knowing who was on the other side.
It was late morning on a mid fall warmish day. The skies were dark and lowly rumbling, gradually getting darker with winds and heavy clouds coming in from the northwest. Most weather days like this would have been a good, exhilarating time sitting out on the porch, drinking and enjoying the lightning light shows and the accompanying music of the winds and thunders. But today...everything had changed. And changed in very serious way.
The Comer stepped back from the doorway to draw Angel out with him, he was as solemn and overcast as the day itself.
He said,
"You know something is coming."
Angel nodded.
"I know.
Not as much as you do,
but I can feel this."
Angel walked out onto the porch with him and they both took a pause, to watch the gently roiling clouds and breath in the smell of rain rich air. A different kind of stormbringer day, rife with a great underlying sad foreboding, but it was still something to be enjoyed.
Comer stepped a few feet back to look through the open front door. Inside he saw there were playing cards spread out on a small, neat and easily put way coffee table. That table wasn't usually there, it was only brought out when there was a need for it. The tv was off and the radio was on. The Roman shades on the front window were raised 'halfway'....telling anyone who might be looking on....that it might not be safe to come around, and that Angel probably just wanted to look outside. And be left in peace.
"Reading cards this morning, my friend?"
asked Comer, calmly donning a quarter the smile he normally sported.
"No.
Not today.
You know I don't have to know everything,
and go my way by faith more than anything else.
I was about to play some solitaire."
"You're rarely solo.
I always show up. Don't I?"
the visiting brother in arms softly laughed.
Angel looked from the sky to him, and smiled for the first time that day. Then sadly gazed off and over to the east south east piece of sky above a place a few streets away.
Nodding at that area the guardian commented,
"There.
There is what is actively drawing this coming storm from the west.
I want to leave the door open now,
the rains will come soon and no one will disturb us.
Go get us some beer,
the fridge is stocked.
Plenty smokes in the side table too.
I'll shuffle the cards,
and we can play some Spades.
If you want to."
"I want to."
The Comer replied, going into the small Spartan home to get them beer. The radio was playing Red Hot Chili Peppers...."The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie".
Comer came from the kitchen, set a couple of longnecks down and took the chair beside the loveseat, pulling it up closer to the table. He spoke, feeling like he should make his companion (once again) face certain unavoidable and immediate things. He reminded the card shuffling Angel,
"You understand
that sometimes things simply 'need to happen'.
And no matter what, it is right.
We should let it be.
You can't save everyone."
Angel put the cards down for a moment and picked up the pack of Marlboros, lit two and handed one to Comer. Then as opening up a bottle, the extremely protective Protector answered,
"Yeah.
I am still acutely aware, same as ever.
I'm not going to let love, sentiment,
or anything else, cloud my judgements.
Don't worry.
Alright?"
"Alright."
he responded, feeling Angel's and his own pains.
Comer and Angel looked around the front room and all the very little that occupied it and he continued consolingly,
"I'll miss this place and people too.
Very much.
It's always been so good here.
We have eternity to explore and experience
all places and times.
Whole new worlds as countless as the stars.
AND...we can always come back
to this place and time when need or want to.
It shall be glorious."
Those were merely more 'reminders' for his friend, who was clearly in need of some consoling.
The Angel smiled better this time and made him clink bottles,
"YES.
So we'll just have to miss it here for awhile.
We'll be back."
For another change that day Angel winked at him in a cheeky way, like the Comer himself so often did. They went on with their card game, listening to the radio songs moodily singing along with the winds and thunderings outside. And the rains finally began, as the Doors were telling the story about the 'Riders on the Storm' on Texas Radio around the Big D. Comer won the first game. Cigarette clenched between teeth, Angel shuffled the cards again diggin' on the tunes with him. They sang along, during these dire straits, with the Dire Straits,
"....and the story was whatever was the song..."
There was another small, Spartanly furnished, house placed directly below that east south east spot of gray sky Angel had gazed over to earlier. The weather witch lived there. Her name was Petra, and she had not always known she was 'a kind of natural witch'. What she could do was not a learned art, it was an innate emotional willing ability she'd unknowingly been born with. It took her distant 'Brother' to seek and find her, and teach her about such things, so she could control it...and herself. He himself had been born with natural 'witch' abilities like hers. Though being a year younger than she, he had realized these things about himself at a much earlier age. Petra was strong concerning these extraordinary abilities and had affected the weather and some other significant events. That was what had gotten his attention and urged him to look for her. He had felt her in the world, and what he felt had made him love her. He taught as much as he could, staying with her as long as could. And Petra loved him too. There came a day when he had to leave, but with a promise to see her again as soon as he possibly could. Both their hearts were terribly broken. He and Petra were strong in all ways though, so they bore the hardship of their separation well. Best anyone possibly could.
Her Brother told her all she needed to know that he knew, except for one thing. He couldn't tell her everything, though he wanted to so badly. It just wasn't his place, his lot, to do that. It was something she had to discover and overcome herself. The something was that Petra was cursed. With ancestral curses, but also curses from many unjust, close and not so close, surrounding her throughout her whole life. She really had no one who truly loved or took care of her but him.
Years have passed. Hard, very hard years. And Petra patiently waits, still feeling her now distant Brother with her and holding her up when she feels weakest and most alone.
Not far from Petra's house the Angels play cards, drink, smoke and listening to the radio, they wait too. To the north west , just a mile away, another Angel landed on the Earth. He is a Domination and a dark gray one in all physical appearance with long booted legs, clad in a long duster coat. His wings vast and mighty. His only remarkably bright characteristic is his silvery gray eyes.
Petra had been fighting back tears all morning this day. She looked away from her window and to the tv that was playing low in the background. An old movie favorite was on.
Normally it would have brought at least a little smile out of her, but this time it was the part where Tommy Lee was explaining to Rosario,
"...it rains because you're sad, baby."
That did it. Petra couldn't take any more. Her sadness this day was so great it made her feel physically weak. Her neck bent with the weight of not only her head, but with the weight her grief and misery. Her suffering, caused by the cursed horrors that had been cast over her. She buried her face in her hands, and her hands and face in the lap of her thin thighs. The deluge was let loose.... and she wept like never before.
The sky darkened intensely. Blinding sheet lightening and bolts streaked across the sky, less than a second later a gargantuan thunder roar cracked and rolled like a sonic boom that shook Angel's entire house. Both seraph's felt it deep in their cores, and they both heard what the FM Radio DJ prophets were reporting to them from Live, "Lighting crashes...a new mother cries..."
Angel and the Comer then saw the gray Domination ( He now looked a much lighter dovelike gray, against the brooding blackening sky and surroundings) through the open front door and window. He stared ahead and walked down the middle of the street with a serene determination, until he reached the point opposite the small white house's open door. He turned head, looking right at them and sang out part of poignant tune himself,
"...and it was clear she couldn't go on."
He threw out his right hand in an offhand wave to them and passed on.
Comer quietly remarked with an almost surprised admiration,
"That was as beautiful as any Cherubim I have heard."
Angel had yet to meet a member of that choir, and this one was the guardian's first Domination,
"I believe you....all I know is that I can tell he's on a mission."
Comer nodded in agreement,
"Definitely."
The Domination, now past the Archangels, said with a low heartbroken tone in that vox as beautiful as any of the Cherubim,
"I am here for you, Petra. I AM coming."
The tornado came just as he met the end of the street. The funnel dipped in and out of the massive cloud bank threateningly. He stopped and watched for the tail to show again, and when it did he flew up catching hold and going up into it. Joining with it.
When it came back down, it touched ground and was on the move. Petra's house was its target. Petra herself, it's goal. She welcomed the roaring, ripping winds as they tore through the back of the house and roof....and mercifully took her with it to her death.
The tornado was moving on and heading back over ground it had already covered toward Angel's street.
The 2 Archangels stepped apart and out off the porch into the front yard.
"Ready?"
asked Comer.
"Let's go."
Angel quietly replied.
Neither looked back as they spread wings and took flight. Looking back was for Lot's wife and her ilk.
3 miles away from where Petra's house had been, her body and heart lay battered, broken and dead. The Domination kicked debris out of his path as he approached. He stood over her, and told her,
"It's over, Petra.
Get up.
Rise little girl.
Come with me."
Life and new health resurged through her.
Petra woke and looked up at the beautiful voice that had said her name.
"I am awake.
Who are you?
What is your name?"
The Domination smiled at her, reached down and took her up in his arms and wings.
"My name is unpronounceable for some immortals, let alone mortals.
Call me 'Ahbra'.
It's short and easy."
Petra smiled at him and ringed her arms around his neck,
"Where are we going, Ahbra?"
The Angel smiled back,
"To your Brother.
You know he's been waiting so long,
and anxiously,
for this too."
- Wolf
The End
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Post by wolf on Mar 19, 2023 20:26:37 GMT
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Post by wolf on Mar 22, 2023 20:17:27 GMT
The needle of the dial scrolls across the face of a Delco car radio somewhere...
....passing through static.....audible audiobible blips...bleeps.....odd boop....and then....."This is Rock and Roll radio" declares Joey Ramone quite quickly....moving on.........static.....blip.....
And there he is!
...through the tinny distortion of the microphone and the less than perfect speakers, comes suddenly the rich smooth suave intonations of Henry Leydon, DJ extraordinarre loved by all generations (especially generation X) 
...... his Lark hangs onto his broad Kasmir zootsuit clad shoulder humming softly, his cool shades glinting in the twinkling lights, fedora atilt in a slight, winningly cadish way. Smile is wide and devil may care. He's happy. He tells us:
"It's a BlockParty Weekend constant listeners. So like all good hep cats and hep chicks let's get it on! The airwaves and phone lines are wide open in the wild blue beyond yonder, so give me ring-a-ding-ding and say hellllooooo by placing all your requests and dedications. And our first 4 hightoned driving "car tunes" are going out to "Arnie. From Christine." and it's going something like this...." :
"Let's go! (I like the night life Baby!)"
"It's all mixed up (she said: Leave it to me, everything'll be alright)"
"She moves in Stereo!"
"Drive"
- THE Cars-
......yeah, that just HAD to come out too. Wuff!
Just a small part of the "Soundtrack of our Lives."
.....his Lark whispers in Henry Leydons ear, telling him the latest news,
"....one of the greats of this band is here, my love....."
Henry smiles in small way,
knowing exactly what to say.....
"Oh hey!
Constant listerners. Check it out,
the news has just come in.
Christine is bringing us another great him.
Of Cars fame is Ric Ocasek,
lyricist, vocalist and guitarist so cool slick.
He's now on his ride,
he has made it to the otherside!
So while we wait,
for this outstanding great,
lets get this wild blue beyond a rockin'
soon, right in here he'll be walkin'!
We're greeting him with all tunes Cars,
all the favorites of his and ours.
Here's a fine Block,
no need to wait for 4 o'clock,
to select, sing and say
it's a 4:20 Four-play!"
"Candio"
"Just What I Needed"
"Magic"
"Good Times Roll"
- THE Cars-
......again, that's something just off the top of my head. Ka demands, the Wolf abides.
Last night I saw “Riding the Bullet” and it reminded me of Christine and these 2 posts above.
Putting them in this thread where they belong. |
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Post by wolf on Apr 6, 2023 19:42:40 GMT
I think I might have another short brewing.
Already thinking of a couple of main characters and titles.
“Jacob Chasseur’s Delivery (Quietus)”
Maybe.
Mm….we’ll see, it’s an idea that’s just coming about.
(Thinking of maybe writing another narrative poem too, for the baby wolf.
“The Clan of the Tree Cats”. She might like that when she gets older, and is listening to all the stories about Oscar and the other oscars. 😊)
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Post by osnafrank on Apr 6, 2023 20:01:13 GMT
I think I might have another short brewing.
Already thinking of a couple of main characters and titles.
“Jacob Chasseur’s Delivery (Quietus)”
Maybe.
Mm….we’ll see, it’s an idea that’s just coming about.
(Thinking of maybe writing another narrative poem too, for the baby wolf.
“The Clan of the Tree Cats”. She might like that when she gets older, and is listening to all the stories about Oscar and the other oscars. 😊) 
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Post by wolf on Apr 6, 2023 20:19:14 GMT
I think I might have another short brewing.
Already thinking of a couple of main characters and titles.
“Jacob Chasseur’s Delivery (Quietus)”
Maybe.
Mm….we’ll see, it’s an idea that’s just coming about.
(Thinking of maybe writing another narrative poem too, for the baby wolf.
“The Clan of the Tree Cats”. She might like that when she gets older, and is listening to all the stories about Oscar and the other oscars. 😊)
  If I don’t see you later, you a good night and sweet dreams when you get to bed, Frank. I have to get offline for awhile, and the phone needs recharging. 😊🎶💤 |
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Post by osnafrank on Apr 6, 2023 20:23:05 GMT
Woo hoo, sounds good, wolfie.
If I don’t see you later, you a good night and sweet dreams when you get to bed, Frank. I have to get offline for awhile, and the phone needs recharging. 😊🎶💤
Okely dokely, see you tomorrow. |
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Post by wolf on Apr 22, 2023 19:22:44 GMT
I think I might have another short brewing.
Already thinking of a couple of main characters and titles.
“Jacob Chasseur’s Delivery (Quietus)”
Maybe.
Mm….we’ll see, it’s an idea that’s just coming about.
(Thinking of maybe writing another narrative poem too, for the baby wolf.
“The Clan of the Tree Cats”. She might like that when she gets older, and is listening to all the stories about Oscar and the other oscars. 😊)
Other characters:
There will be “Mort, a mule”,
and Justin’s own shade/doppelgänger/conscience/friend.
And “The upstart, laying in the street”.
Faustus, a weaselly shifty drifter.
2 ghoul-goblin things
The horses, Plower and (maybe) Sparks.
The town will be named “Lightshade”, I think. 😊
I’ll get to writing it sometime. I’ve got other things I have to get done first.🙂😉 |
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Post by wolf on Apr 23, 2023 16:25:04 GMT
I think I might have another short brewing.
Already thinking of a couple of main characters and titles.
“The Quietus of Justin Chasseur”
Maybe.
(Think “Judge Roy Bean territories”.) 😊😉 |
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Post by wolf on Apr 25, 2023 19:00:33 GMT
Here’s a belated birthday present Commander osnafrank .
If you don’t like it, you can return it and I’ll get you something else.😂
…but don’t leave early, the party might get good.😊😉
“The Quietus of Justin Chasseur”
Part I
Mort The Mule
The mule traversed the grasses of the vast plain for 2 days, and was now nearing its edge. The sun was barely past Justin and the town’s 2 o’clock hour. A lone tree stood close by, and Mort took a moment of shade under it, to munch on some grass and a few skithery wild flowers. Water waited for the mule in the single street town dubbed Light Shade. The firing of a gun suddenly shattered silence, and its head shot up from the ground as 2 more gunshots rang out almost simultaneously. The gun fire was coming from the heart of Light Shade directly ahead. The mule abandoned the grass and flowers to get back on track at a trot. Mort had an appointment to meet.
Entering town Mort slowed back down to an easy walk. Right outside of the saloon a youngster of about 18 lay dead on the side of the street, a gun was clenched tight in his death grip. The mule nudged at the fresh corpse with a hoof and took a whiff of it. Then snorted out hard and loud in disgust at a specific stink there.
“All no good and rotten inside.”
The hoof nudged at him again,
“Just an ugly little upstart that went too far. Made an a*s of yourself, didn’t ya? Big fish in a little pond, and thought you were the hottest sh!t around since Adam. You weren’t. No gold for the likes of you.”
And like a Caddo bead spitter, the mule spat out 3 bronze coins. 2 of them fell neatly on the open glazed eyes, the last one landed in the gaping mouth, settling on the already swelling tongue.
“Someone will be ‘round to collect you shortly. I’m not here for you.”
Mort shied away from the wicked dead boy and snorted again, clearing the last of the soul’s stench from flared nostrils. The appointment was in the middle of the road, about 60 mule paces away. Mort had gotten into town a little early.
-Wolf
(Part II ‘The Crow and Water’ coming soon.)
Justin Chasseur lay spread out flat on his back, limbs a sprawl. The fiery pain of the gut shot subsided and he felt a weird coolness growing inside himself…..
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Post by osnafrank on Apr 25, 2023 19:54:40 GMT
It's great, wolfie, i like Mort.
Looking forward to part two. 
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Post by wolf on Apr 26, 2023 0:49:27 GMT
It's great, wolfie, i like Mort.
Looking forward to part two.
Well, if it turns out to not be your sup of tea, and you don’t like it, that’s perfectly fine. 😊
I’ll get you another bottle of whisky and more Spock Ears instead. 😂
I like mules. 😊
When I was a little kid, one of my best friends was a mule named Ruben. He lived next door to one of my Aunts.
(Nooo, he was a real mule not imaginary. I heard that thought, Frank.🤨
My other friends were imaginary though….except for all the dogs and cats. 😂)
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