| War and History Flash Fiction posted April 19, 2015 |
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a short short story about Sitting Bull & Custer's Last Stand
Visions
by RodG
On a hot, cloudless afternoon, Sitting Bull, the Lakota holy man, stood alone on the hill where the last of Yellow Hair's command died. His eyes were closed, yet he could see the dozen stripped and mutilated bodies lying amidst the rocks, broken arrows and feathered lances. The stench of dried blood and rotting flesh was strong.
The battle had long since moved to the valley of the Greasy Grass a few miles away. But here the dead were mute. Only the wind whispered.
A young warrior, One Bull, raced his pinto up the hill, jerked it to an abrupt halt, and vaulted off its back.
"Uncle, we have won! Your vision came true!"
Sitting Bull opened his eyes and lifted his gaze to his nephew's bone breast plate.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Many Blue Shirts would die today. This I foresaw."
He squinted at the beads of sweat around his nephew's upturned lips.
"My shield, it served One Bull well?" he grunted.
"Yes, Uncle." The young man nodded in respect. "My lance took coup on two of the soldiers while they still fought!"
"Good. I am pleased," the holy man said tonelessly.
As One Bull watched, his uncle's lips tightened as if two cords had been pulled. He gazed at Sitting Bull a long moment before asking, "Are you not happy, Uncle? In years to come, our children's children will sing songs about what you saw. Our great victory. Will not the Whites now leave Paha Sapa?"
Sitting Bull gazed upon the dead with rheumy eyes.
"Leave me, Nephew, so I may give your question thought. Go to the village. Tell Gall and Four Horns I will be there for the celebration."
One Bull frowned, but mounted his horse and left.
Alone once more, Sitting Bull pondered the scene before him. In his earlier vision he had seen them come. Yellow Hair had led his soldiers toward the Lakotas' village, but sentries shouted warnings. Warriors rushed from their tipis and leaped upon their ponies. Soon hundreds raced to meet the Blue Shirts, chasing small groups of them from ravines to ridge tops until they stopped to fight . . . and die.
Sitting Bull closed his eyes once more. A new vision came.
The Sacred Mountains appear starkly beautiful at the break of day, rising to greet Sun. But clouds appear . . . then snow gently falling from gray skies. Ghost-like people . . . warriors and women dancing about huge fires. "Tatanka-yotanka says a god will come to save us!" they chant.
Mist blurs the images . . . Blue Shirts . . . so many with rifles shouting . . . Shots! HIS PEOPLE falling . . . into open pits. So many bodies!
More soldiers . . . screaming . . . at him! A shot . . . sharp pain . . .
A great silence.
Then he is an eagle, soaring high above the snowy fields. He stares at the bodies below. ALL LAKOTA!
Sitting Bull opened his eyes and shook his head sadly. The answer to One Bull's question had become as clear as the cloudless sky above.
War writing prompt entry
On a hot, cloudless afternoon, Sitting Bull, the Lakota holy man, stood alone on the hill where the last of Yellow Hair's command died. His eyes were closed, yet he could see the dozen stripped and mutilated bodies lying amidst the rocks, broken arrows and feathered lances. The stench of dried blood and rotting flesh was strong.
The battle had long since moved to the valley of the Greasy Grass a few miles away. But here the dead were mute. Only the wind whispered.
A young warrior, One Bull, raced his pinto up the hill, jerked it to an abrupt halt, and vaulted off its back.
"Uncle, we have won! Your vision came true!"
Sitting Bull opened his eyes and lifted his gaze to his nephew's bone breast plate.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Many Blue Shirts would die today. This I foresaw."
He squinted at the beads of sweat around his nephew's upturned lips.
"My shield, it served One Bull well?" he grunted.
"Yes, Uncle." The young man nodded in respect. "My lance took coup on two of the soldiers while they still fought!"
"Good. I am pleased," the holy man said tonelessly.
As One Bull watched, his uncle's lips tightened as if two cords had been pulled. He gazed at Sitting Bull a long moment before asking, "Are you not happy, Uncle? In years to come, our children's children will sing songs about what you saw. Our great victory. Will not the Whites now leave Paha Sapa?"
Sitting Bull gazed upon the dead with rheumy eyes.
"Leave me, Nephew, so I may give your question thought. Go to the village. Tell Gall and Four Horns I will be there for the celebration."
One Bull frowned, but mounted his horse and left.
Alone once more, Sitting Bull pondered the scene before him. In his earlier vision he had seen them come. Yellow Hair had led his soldiers toward the Lakotas' village, but sentries shouted warnings. Warriors rushed from their tipis and leaped upon their ponies. Soon hundreds raced to meet the Blue Shirts, chasing small groups of them from ravines to ridge tops until they stopped to fight . . . and die.
Sitting Bull closed his eyes once more. A new vision came.
The Sacred Mountains appear starkly beautiful at the break of day, rising to greet Sun. But clouds appear . . . then snow gently falling from gray skies. Ghost-like people . . . warriors and women dancing about huge fires. "Tatanka-yotanka says a god will come to save us!" they chant.
Mist blurs the images . . . Blue Shirts . . . so many with rifles shouting . . . Shots! HIS PEOPLE falling . . . into open pits. So many bodies!
More soldiers . . . screaming . . . at him! A shot . . . sharp pain . . .
A great silence.
Then he is an eagle, soaring high above the snowy fields. He stares at the bodies below. ALL LAKOTA!
Sitting Bull opened his eyes and shook his head sadly. The answer to One Bull's question had become as clear as the cloudless sky above.
The battle had long since moved to the valley of the Greasy Grass a few miles away. But here the dead were mute. Only the wind whispered.
A young warrior, One Bull, raced his pinto up the hill, jerked it to an abrupt halt, and vaulted off its back.
"Uncle, we have won! Your vision came true!"
Sitting Bull opened his eyes and lifted his gaze to his nephew's bone breast plate.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Many Blue Shirts would die today. This I foresaw."
He squinted at the beads of sweat around his nephew's upturned lips.
"My shield, it served One Bull well?" he grunted.
"Yes, Uncle." The young man nodded in respect. "My lance took coup on two of the soldiers while they still fought!"
"Good. I am pleased," the holy man said tonelessly.
As One Bull watched, his uncle's lips tightened as if two cords had been pulled. He gazed at Sitting Bull a long moment before asking, "Are you not happy, Uncle? In years to come, our children's children will sing songs about what you saw. Our great victory. Will not the Whites now leave Paha Sapa?"
Sitting Bull gazed upon the dead with rheumy eyes.
"Leave me, Nephew, so I may give your question thought. Go to the village. Tell Gall and Four Horns I will be there for the celebration."
One Bull frowned, but mounted his horse and left.
Alone once more, Sitting Bull pondered the scene before him. In his earlier vision he had seen them come. Yellow Hair had led his soldiers toward the Lakotas' village, but sentries shouted warnings. Warriors rushed from their tipis and leaped upon their ponies. Soon hundreds raced to meet the Blue Shirts, chasing small groups of them from ravines to ridge tops until they stopped to fight . . . and die.
Sitting Bull closed his eyes once more. A new vision came.
The Sacred Mountains appear starkly beautiful at the break of day, rising to greet Sun. But clouds appear . . . then snow gently falling from gray skies. Ghost-like people . . . warriors and women dancing about huge fires. "Tatanka-yotanka says a god will come to save us!" they chant.
Mist blurs the images . . . Blue Shirts . . . so many with rifles shouting . . . Shots! HIS PEOPLE falling . . . into open pits. So many bodies!
More soldiers . . . screaming . . . at him! A shot . . . sharp pain . . .
A great silence.
Then he is an eagle, soaring high above the snowy fields. He stares at the bodies below. ALL LAKOTA!
Sitting Bull opened his eyes and shook his head sadly. The answer to One Bull's question had become as clear as the cloudless sky above.
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Writing Prompt Write a story where a character is in war or is about to be in war. Fiction or non-fiction. |
The artwork, titled "The Custer Fight" is by Charles Russell.
Perhaps the most famous battle between soldiers and Indians during the Indian Wars was Custer's Last Stand, June 25, 1876, on the Little Big Horn River in what is now South Dakota. Most of you know that every man under his immediate command was killed. This story is a sidebar that you may not be familiar with.
Sitting Bull was NOT a war chief, but the medicine man of the Lakota (aka Sioux). He indeed had a vision that foresaw this battle and its outcome. He also had visions, some true & others untrue. He, too, believed in the visions/dreams of a Paiute holy man who predicted an Indian messiah would come and drive out the white men. This holy man (and Sitting Bull) urged the people to do the Ghost Dance which supposedly would hasten the messiah's arrival. Sitting Bull had two more visions which did come true: the first was the massacre at Wounded Knee (some call this the last Indian "battle"). The second was his own death. Shortly after this massacre, he was taken from his prison cell and shot by an Indian policeman when he allegedly tried to break free.
Yellow Hair: General Custer (actually it is what the Cheyenne called him; the Sioux called him Long Hair even though his hair was cropped short the day he died).
The Blue Shirts: any soldier, not necessarily just Custer's Seventh Cavalry.
One Bull was indeed Sitting Bull's nephew who did fight Custer's soldiers.
counting coup: this was the ultimate act of courage, where you charged an enemy and tapped him with your bow or lance and then raced away.
Greasy Grass: aka the Little Big Horn River
PaHa Sapa: the name the Lakota gave the Black Hills, their Sacred Mountains.
Gall & Four Horns were Sioux war chiefs.
Tatanka-yotanka: the Lakota name for Sitting Bull.
The setting and the characters are all real. I took liberties in plotting this fictional story.
word count: 495 Apple Works
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Perhaps the most famous battle between soldiers and Indians during the Indian Wars was Custer's Last Stand, June 25, 1876, on the Little Big Horn River in what is now South Dakota. Most of you know that every man under his immediate command was killed. This story is a sidebar that you may not be familiar with.
Sitting Bull was NOT a war chief, but the medicine man of the Lakota (aka Sioux). He indeed had a vision that foresaw this battle and its outcome. He also had visions, some true & others untrue. He, too, believed in the visions/dreams of a Paiute holy man who predicted an Indian messiah would come and drive out the white men. This holy man (and Sitting Bull) urged the people to do the Ghost Dance which supposedly would hasten the messiah's arrival. Sitting Bull had two more visions which did come true: the first was the massacre at Wounded Knee (some call this the last Indian "battle"). The second was his own death. Shortly after this massacre, he was taken from his prison cell and shot by an Indian policeman when he allegedly tried to break free.
Yellow Hair: General Custer (actually it is what the Cheyenne called him; the Sioux called him Long Hair even though his hair was cropped short the day he died).
The Blue Shirts: any soldier, not necessarily just Custer's Seventh Cavalry.
One Bull was indeed Sitting Bull's nephew who did fight Custer's soldiers.
counting coup: this was the ultimate act of courage, where you charged an enemy and tapped him with your bow or lance and then raced away.
Greasy Grass: aka the Little Big Horn River
PaHa Sapa: the name the Lakota gave the Black Hills, their Sacred Mountains.
Gall & Four Horns were Sioux war chiefs.
Tatanka-yotanka: the Lakota name for Sitting Bull.
The setting and the characters are all real. I took liberties in plotting this fictional story.
word count: 495 Apple Works
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