| Western Fiction posted August 13, 2020 |
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This is what my piece of history would look like
Opening The West
by Earl Corp
Men To Match My Mountains is what the poster had said.
“I’m a man,” I thought.
So I packed what little I had and bade my ma and pa goodbye.
“I’m off to the Rocky Mountains to find my fortune,” I told them.
It took me two months to get to St. Louis where I would start my journey. I signed on with a trapping brigade from the American Fur Company.
They outfitted me with traps, a horse, and a mule. The Hawken rifle I had to buy on my own. It took what money I had, but what the heck, money is no good in the mountains.
We departed by boat and headed northwest up the Missouri.
Once we arrived at our destination, we built cabins to winter in. We then paired off to go trap in different locations. My partner was an old timer named Two Fingers Rogers.
Two Fingers was aptly named because he had lost his ring and little finger to frostbite a few seasons back.
“You need to watch and learn, Cub,” he told me.
I did. My beard and hair grew long, I dressed in buckskins and my muscles grew strong.
Matching the mountains was hard work. Working all day in hip deep freezing water from can’t see to can’t see. The critters roaming around like catamounts, grizzlies, wolverines, and such were frightening.
I had to change my britches the first time we come across a Grizz. But that fur was going to make a warm coat. I actually earned some respect from Two Fingers for killing that beast.
The scenery was breathtaking as I trod through lands no white man had ever seen. The snow-capped mountains, the pristine mountain lakes, and the virgin forests were something to behold.
I could tell by our beaver count we weren’t going to get rich, but the freedom I found in this vast wilderness was the true treasure I’d found.
Those were my last thoughts as I watched the Blackfoot warrior with the cruel grin lay the torch at the kindling at my feet.
My piece of history writing prompt entry
Men To Match My Mountains is what the poster had said.
“I’m a man,” I thought.
So I packed what little I had and bade my ma and pa goodbye.
“I’m off to the Rocky Mountains to find my fortune,” I told them.
It took me two months to get to St. Louis where I would start my journey. I signed on with a trapping brigade from the American Fur Company.
They outfitted me with traps, a horse, and a mule. The Hawken rifle I had to buy on my own. It took what money I had, but what the heck, money is no good in the mountains.
We departed by boat and headed northwest up the Missouri.
Once we arrived at our destination, we built cabins to winter in. We then paired off to go trap in different locations. My partner was an old timer named Two Fingers Rogers.
Two Fingers was aptly named because he had lost his ring and little finger to frostbite a few seasons back.
“You need to watch and learn, Cub,” he told me.
I did. My beard and hair grew long, I dressed in buckskins and my muscles grew strong.
Matching the mountains was hard work. Working all day in hip deep freezing water from can’t see to can’t see. The critters roaming around like catamounts, grizzlies, wolverines, and such were frightening.
I had to change my britches the first time we come across a Grizz. But that fur was going to make a warm coat. I actually earned some respect from Two Fingers for killing that beast.
The scenery was breathtaking as I trod through lands no white man had ever seen. The snow-capped mountains, the pristine mountain lakes, and the virgin forests were something to behold.
I could tell by our beaver count we weren’t going to get rich, but the freedom I found in this vast wilderness was the true treasure I’d found.
Those were my last thoughts as I watched the Blackfoot warrior with the cruel grin lay the torch at the kindling at my feet.
“I’m a man,” I thought.
So I packed what little I had and bade my ma and pa goodbye.
“I’m off to the Rocky Mountains to find my fortune,” I told them.
It took me two months to get to St. Louis where I would start my journey. I signed on with a trapping brigade from the American Fur Company.
They outfitted me with traps, a horse, and a mule. The Hawken rifle I had to buy on my own. It took what money I had, but what the heck, money is no good in the mountains.
We departed by boat and headed northwest up the Missouri.
Once we arrived at our destination, we built cabins to winter in. We then paired off to go trap in different locations. My partner was an old timer named Two Fingers Rogers.
Two Fingers was aptly named because he had lost his ring and little finger to frostbite a few seasons back.
“You need to watch and learn, Cub,” he told me.
I did. My beard and hair grew long, I dressed in buckskins and my muscles grew strong.
Matching the mountains was hard work. Working all day in hip deep freezing water from can’t see to can’t see. The critters roaming around like catamounts, grizzlies, wolverines, and such were frightening.
I had to change my britches the first time we come across a Grizz. But that fur was going to make a warm coat. I actually earned some respect from Two Fingers for killing that beast.
The scenery was breathtaking as I trod through lands no white man had ever seen. The snow-capped mountains, the pristine mountain lakes, and the virgin forests were something to behold.
I could tell by our beaver count we weren’t going to get rich, but the freedom I found in this vast wilderness was the true treasure I’d found.
Those were my last thoughts as I watched the Blackfoot warrior with the cruel grin lay the torch at the kindling at my feet.
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Writing Prompt Write a flash fiction ( 350 words title not included ) about the historical event you wish you had lived through. What would it have been like, do you think? Share your impressions in your flash fiction. |
 Recognized |
#344 2020 |
Except for the ending, this would be the time in history I'd choose to live.
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