George D. Winters
Jul 6, 2015 | 1st pages, Spiritual
Chapter One
Raccoon, Rabies, & Making Plans
Jasper Creek, a small town in Wyoming. Where the people live, love, and work together for the betterment of everyone. The town mayor, and Marshall of Jasper creek is a man named Cheyenne Cody Jones. His wife Walking Fawn, and twin daughters, Alexandra and Eliana, along with himself live in a small house at the edge of town. Spring is on the horizon, snow almost all melted. Snow birds still chase each other around as they realize winter is almost gone. A hawk sits on a fence post, looking for the movement of mice or anything to eat.
The sound of an old crow in a tree nearby makes one realize spring is here. It's Monday morning in Jasper Creek, a service of remembering yesterday in our little church. Recalling the days of loved ones who have passed on. The ground outside is muddy as the weather has warmed up, and thawed the ground.
“I will head over to the sheriff's office sweetheart to check on the deputies.”
“Ok Cheyenne, I will walk the girls to school, then head over to the general store to get some things we need.
Tell all the Deputies hello for me Cheyenne, and wish them a good week please.” Cheyenne steps out and heads for the sheriff's office, suddenly he is greeted by a snarling raccoon. He jumps back and tries to get his pistol out, but the raccoon bites him through his pants before he can shoot it. Cheyenne jumps back quickly, and fires his 45 into its head. The raccoon falls instantly, and stretches out as his life leaves him. Wincing in pain, he quickly lifts his pant leg to check out the bite.
Blood oozing from the teeth marks, Cheyenne takes his hanky to wipe the blood away. Now Cheyenne must find out if the raccoon is rabid. Cheyenne leaves the raccoon, and heads over to Dr. James office to see if he has the equipment to check for rabies. Soon he is there, and headed up the stairs to Doc's office. He gets to the top of the stairs, and knocks on the door. After a couple of moments, the door opens.
“Hello Doc., got bad news. I was just bitten by a raccoon, do you have the equipment to check it for rabies?”
“No Cheyenne, I don't have that equipment. You probably could get the raccoon or yourself checked in Denver. I can go look at it and see if it has signs of rabies. Was it frothing from the mouth at all? It is out during daylight hours, which is one of the behaviors of a rabid raccoon.
“I never noticed his mouth Doc., was too busy trying to get away from him.”
“Please Doc., can we go, take a look and see what you think?”
“Sure we can Cheyenne, let me take care of the bite, so you don't get an infection from it. Then we will go check the raccoon.” Doc. soaks a cloth with whiskey, lays it on the bite marks, and waits for a couple minutes. Then he takes the whiskey soaked rag from Cheyenne's leg and wraps it with a clean piece of white cloth.
“Ok Cheyenne, keep it wrapped, and come back to see me in a couple days. Now let's go take a look at that raccoon.”
Cheyenne, and Doc. James head over to where the raccoon is, getting there in a few minutes. Doc., looks at the raccoon, but makes sure not to touch it. After looking for a bit, Doc. says.
“Well Cheyenne, he doesn't really look like he is infected, but we can't be sure. Let's get a shovel from the general store, and bury him so nothing else gets infected if he does have rabies.”
“I will do it Doc., thanks for taking care of the wound, and coming to check out the raccoon for me.”
“OK Cheyenne, I will get back to my office, be sure and come see me in a couple days. All we can do is pray Cheyenne, if you has rabies, your time on this earth is short.”
“Well thank you Doc., I know it's hard but I will get everything in order.” Cheyenne heads over to the general store to get a shovel, he will not tell Jason Knouse about the raccoon yet. Soon there he walks inside.
“Hello Jason, say can I borrow a shovel for a little while, I need to bury a dead raccoon.”
“Sure you can Cheyenne, here you go, keep it as long as you need it.”
“Thank you Jason, I will have it back soon.” He heads for where the raccoon is, getting there in a few minutes, Cheyenne buries the raccoon at the edge of the woods, and returns the shovel back to the general store. He then heads for home to give Walking Fawn the bad news. Soon he is there, going inside, and sitting down in the old rocking chair.
“WALKING FAWN, COME IN HERE PLEASE.” She quickly comes in to see what Cheyenne wants.
“Sit down sweetheart, I have something to tell you.”
“Is everything ok Cheyenne, tell me please, what's wrong?”
“I was bitten by a raccoon, Doc., checked it for rabies, but couldn't be sure if it's infected or not. If it was, my time on this earth could be short. I need to tell you sweetheart, what my last wishes are.”
“OH MY GOD, CHEYENNE. PLEASE TELL ME IT ISN'T SO. WHAT WILL I DO CHEYENNE, WHAT WILL THE TWINS DO WITHOUT YOU HERE?”
“Calm down, Walking Fawn, I may not die at all. We do have to face the reality of it though. Just try to calm down sweetheart. Let’s go to God in prayer about this ordeal.”
“Oh yes Cheyenne, please pray, pray hard, I cannot lose you my love. I will not lose you Cheyenne, I just won’t. Oh God please hear our prayer.”
“Ok sweetheart, I will say a prayer for us. Oh God, if it be your will, please allow me to not get rabies. I honor you as God, my loving and caring savior. If I do get rabies, I humbly ask you to watch over Walking Fawn and the girls. Guide and direct their life, give them health, and happiness, and a long life on this earth. We ask for wisdom and strength, and the courage to face this problem. Thank you father for your love, we ask it all in Jesus name, Amen.”
“OK sweetheart, here is what I want you to know. We have some money in the bank, enough to keep you and the girls for a couple years or so. I will leave Jason Knouse, and Ron Withers in charge. I will ask them to watch out for you and the girls. I am sure there are different ones in town who will let you work to make some money, if it comes to that point. I will get things in order just in case the worst happens.”
George D. Winters
Jul 6, 2015 | 1st pages, Spiritual
Chapter One
Sifting Out the Bad
The sun rises on Jasper Creek, sounds of summer in the air. Cheyenne Cody Jones looks out over the town. The best little town in Wyoming. People here work hard together, play hard together and love unconditionally. The twins playing together, walking around and stopping to pet Lucky. Walking Fawn cooking some eggs with biscuits and sausage gravy.
The sound of a woodpecker on a tree nearby. Some seventy degrees at seven in the morning, going to be a hot day in Jasper Creek. I sit down to eat breakfast and as I do, I hear a knock on the door. I head for the door, wondering who it would be this early in the morning. I open the door and it's Ms. Marten, owner of the BuckHorn saloon.
“Morning Cheyenne, how are you doing, just wanted to talk with you for a moment.”
“Ok Ms. Martin, come in and have some breakfast with us and we will talk.”
“Good morning, Walking Fawn. Wow the twins are growing fast. What beautiful little girls they are.”
“Well Ms. Martin, have some coffee. Just how can I help you this morning?”
“Cheyenne, someone is stealing liquor from the saloon. Pretty sure it's none of the girls working for me. Just not sure how it's happening.”
“Ms. Martin, do you think it could be Jack the bar tender?”
“I don't think so Cheyenne, but not positive about that.”
“Well Ms. Martin, some of his buddies do come in quite often, don't they?”
“Yes they do Cheyenne, some come in every day almost.”
“Well Ms. Martin, watch him when his friends are there, and make sure he is charging them for every drink.”
Ms. Martin sits in her office but leaves the door slightly ajar, watching Jack Daniels the bar tender as he works. Soon she notices that when his buddies get a drink, he is only charging for every other one. She ask Amy, one of the bar girls to tend bar for a while, she needs to talk to Jack.
“Jack, I need to see you in my office, Amy will tend bar for now.”
“Ok Ms. Martin, will be right there.” Jack comes in the office and sits down. Looking like a sheep killing dog.
“Sorry Jack, but I have to let you go, you are stealing from me, and I can't afford that Jack.”
“Hey Ms. Martin, you got it all wrong, I'm just helping my friends. They work hard and like to drink. Sometimes they don't have enough money, so I give them a free drink or two.”
George D. Winters
Jul 6, 2015 | 1st pages, Spiritual
Chapter One
Bear Attack
My name is Cheyenne Cody Jones, a fur trapper, X stagecoach driver and Sheriff” for a short time in the little town of Jasper Creek, Wyoming. “ Born in 1844 in Laramie, Wyoming.”My life was almost gone but given back to me by someone very special.
“I, awake, to the sound of raindrops falling lazily on the leaves. Starting to stretch I feel an agonizing pain in my stomach and all of a sudden realize that what I thought was a bad dream is real and very true. Fully awake now and realizing that I have been attacked, my vision is blurry as I strive to open my eyes, and look around. Thinking it is just because, I'm not awake yet but as I wipe my eyes, I see blood on my hands and realize that my blurred vision is due to blood all over me. Struggling to sit up, it all comes back in my memory.
Riding briskly along headed to check my traps, suddenly a grizzly sprang from the bushes and as my horse spooked, off I came. Hitting the ground with a thud, the bear on top of me instantly. Feeling his sharp teeth tear into my body with enormous pain no doubt screams of fright coming from my mangled body. The will to survive extends beyond all pain and suffering. Close to passing out, struggling to get to my hunting knife. Feeling my flesh being torn away, one bite at a time. I must have passed out and the bear thinking I was dead, stopped the attack and left me there.
Looking, down the ravine and seeing the mangled body of my horse, and realizing that the grizzly has killed and eaten a portion of the carcass. The Bear has gone but he may return soon. Possibly to eat more on the dead horse, and attack again if he sees I am not dead. Realizing my body is mangled and my clothes torn and soaked with blood, I strive to get to my feet. I must make an attempt to get to my horse. I need my Winchester in case he returns or I will have no chance at all.
Trying to get to my feet, the pain is more than I can bear. Laying back down on the ground, thinking I will rest for a bit and give it another shot shortly. Basically falling back to the ground, I let out a shriek as the pain of torn flesh and blood pulls from my clothes as I hit the ground. Laying my head back and closing my eyes to try and gather my thoughts. I feel I'm going to pass out and sure enough I do suddenly.
The next thing I remember is hearing the footsteps of someone coming toward me, the crackling of the twigs as the footsteps get closer. I open my eyes, but am too weak to raise my hand. Saying a prayer that it isn't the Crow Indians because they are on the warpath. Suddenly I feel a hand brush across my face. I slowly opened my eyes to the most beautiful Indian woman I have ever seen. Hoping and praying that she is alone and has compassion and will help me. Realizing being a white man and her an Indian squaw, it puts her in a precarious situation.
Ian Purdie
Jun 30, 2015 | 1st pages, Featured, Spiritual
A blur of fur passed in front of the two boys. “Was that a rat?”
“Too many legs.” It was hot and there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air.
The barren mountainside had lost a lot of its allure since the snow melted. The higher they climbed, the closer they got to the sun. Wen and Tashi had always known that one day they would climb the mountain which loomed over their childhoods, dwarfing the small Tibetan village of Womadige. They grew up hearing stories about the demons and otherworldly apparitions that haunted its upper slopes.
They watched it change with the seasons, sometimes showing a new face every minute as its mighty bulk continually transformed before their young eyes. Now it was under their feet, adorning their pre-adolescent sky like a pert young breast. Upwards it dared them. After more sweat, heat, dust, rocks and going upwards than either had imagined they were committed to or capable of, they rested on a ledge just below the significantly less looming summit.
The view was spectacular. They could see almost everything they’d ever known at a glance, and there was so much more. The river their mothers had washed their clothes in since they were babies meandered off into the distance in two opposing directions. Far below, their homes were barely visible. “Let’s go,” said Tashi. Upwards.
John P Noonan
Jun 26, 2015 | 1st pages, Sci-fi, Spiritual
“The Gathering”
Adam was driving his Ford pickup along an old familiar winding road. The rock group Super Tramp was playing the Logical Song on the dashboard radio. Around one more bend to the local watering hole called Gillian’s.
Gillian’s is a popular hangout for locals and N.A.S.A. astronauts, about five miles down the road from the John F. Kennedy Space Center, Florida. As his truck pulls in the gravel parking lot, the music from the bar drowns out his truck radio, as he shut down his motor.
He steps out of the truck, and enters the bar for a final civilian gathering with his comrades. Adam and his friends are United States Astronauts. Adam is a Mission Specialist, with seven flown shuttle missions under his belt.
A Mission Specialist is a N.A.S.A. astronaut assigned to a shuttle crew with mission-specific duties. They have a free last night together before they go into a ten day quarantine in the morning for a special N.A.S.A. mission.
Seth Mullins
Jun 19, 2015 | 1st pages, Spiritual
Fire Thief
During the autumn of that year, several months before my twenty-third birthday, we began recording our album for upstart label Critical Mass: The album that the world would never let us forget.
This bit of serendipity had followed a period of dissipated hopes and, at its darkest verges, the deep lacerations of despair. Following a triumphant gig at Broomstick Belladonna’s in New York – a sort of informal Battle of the Bands that had been an intended celebration of peak summer – our band, Edge of the Known, had been courted by two record labels, Widowed Soul Records and Phantom Hordes.
Neither of these leads proved to be avenues towards our most cherished future, however, as these companies failed to grasp that we were an utterly self-made band with absolutely no intentions of putting on airs in order to ‘make it’ in the industry.
We followed the Muse, because that was the only thing we knew how to do. And it was the only thing worth doing, even if it could potentially cost us all possible remuneration for our efforts.
By this time we’d all started wearing apparel that my girlfriend Janie had made for us, much of it from buckskin that she’d obtained from a local butcher’s during the deer hunting season. We were looking more and more “native” by the week.
But one thing Phantom Horde’s Gurdon Hill ‘suggested’, one night over dinner at McNeil’s Fish ‘n’ Chips, was that we abandon all this and adopt a more “conventionally metal” look, replete with black leather pants, studded belts; basically, he was advocating an image that Tommy and I, particularly, had already perfected throughout our High School tenure.
And I wasn’t exactly averse to it even now; but the idea of anyone dictating my sartorial sense was infuriating.
