Etta in wagon

Etta in wagon

A Story by WRITER-----------TYPEWRITER

My name is Etta . Born in wagon and raise on the great run. You can see me like beautiful pioneer women. Strong and bold . We are on the way my family and others people. We are on desert . Sun too hot and no water sources. Man talking about cows and killing of enemies. I dont participate. My mind is simple like this prairie . Open and all goes in and all goes out. My man is far away to hunting bizons. I feel lonely and happy. Nobody hear can touch me or hurt me. They are all same to me. Just shadows around place where i travel. My mind far away with my man. We broke camp in canyon of big fear. Fires have higher flames and smoke goes for miles long. We dont too much think about native people. We think we are strong. We got all latest guns and they cannot touch us. We are christians and we got light. But true is we are sometimes more cruel them them. I saw burning villages on east. Burn down all kill man, women, children, elldery . Our army dont make difirence . they kill all and for all. Now everybody



dy laying ready to sleep. Few guards on top of canyon. I read my white pioneer bible. I know somebody will come. Somebody who was hurt and need make reverenge. This land is not build just on trust . But also on running blood and victims of hate. Stars are in milky mist. My lips are moist from whiskey. Now I heard flying arrows to our guards. They are death. I crawling on dusty ground. In corner there is cave. Dark and wet . I can feel cold wind and strange smell of rotten meat. But I go there anyway live more longer them them. I can hear scream and cutting limbs. They are cruel like crusaders. I walk in dark feel cold and shivering. Sutendly i came into underground river . There was light come in from above. Few holes in top of the cave. River was noise and dark red. Cause maybe soil . Now I see it small girl from our wagon company. Naked and hurt. But on the live. I ask her about her name. She reply I am Belle. And she start cry . Please hold me they are all death. They are....She make sounds like weeping angel. I hold her firmly but gentle on my chest. We take another side of river . Is was not really deep. Just about my knees. There was thiny hall leading to great space of worshiping of some pagan gods. Wooden icons and heads of animals. I found there one gian canoei from birch bark. We use it. Rivers flow down and down. and on the end there was hole . Where all water end it. We falling like crumbles into soup. Over rocks and there was huge water fall. We were safe. Calm peaceful landscape , beautiful mountains and deep valleys. Like some wonderland. There was few cabins . So we went there to ask about food and shelter. There was some Sweedish family. They give us nice food and drinks. We can stay for while. There was one place for free where  we can build also our cabin and make farm. We start our hard work. Make it hole build the house. Plent vegies and all looks so wonderful then ever. 






© 2017 WRITER-----------TYPEWRITER



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Added on August 10, 2017
Last Updated on August 10, 2017

Author

WRITER-----------TYPEWRITER
WRITER-----------TYPEWRITER

LONDON , VT



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COLIN WILSON IRIS MURDOCH JEAN PAUL SARTRE ALBERT CAMUS SIMONE DE Beauvoir FRANZ KAFKA COLLETE GEORGE SAND MICHELE FOCAULT F. M. DOSTOJEVSKY A. .. more..

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