Last Princess of the Swan River Cree

[Lonesome Cowboy]

Last Princess of the Swan River Cree (excerpt)

Sprinting across the prairie was always easy for Snowbird. Her long legs never failed to fling her farther and faster across the grassy plains of her home ; the Swan River Indian Village. She imagined she was a mighty Cree warrior of the old legends as she ran pretending to dodge imaginary arrows shot from the bows of monstrous enemies. She ran with lightning speed across the plain, dodging this way and that to avoid fallen limbs and leaping over low places. She blended quite easily into her surroundings, even at such a fast sprint. Her tanned leather boots made no sound on the tall prairie grass and her long hair waved behind her like the tail of a mustang. As she drew closer to the ancient Swan River, she began to slow down, coming to a fast paced walk. Hoping to spend a few minutes in the warm sun, she slowly came to a rest comfortably on the grassy floor of a secluded clearing. Snowbird listened to the prairie whisper to her in the rustling of the grass, the chirping of birds, the crytsal chime of the river. She looked up at the sky, squinting, wrinkling her nose as she shielded her eyes from the bright sun. It was unusualy warm that day; a couple of clouds rolling lazily across the sky. She loved the way the sunlight sprinkled down and bathed the fields in warm light. She gazed at the dozens of tee pees dotting the prairie below, nestled like children in the foothills of the Caribou Mountains. She thought of her family, feeling warm and safe.

Shattering her peaceful reverie, the sound of loud violent thunder ripping across the prairie.

“No rain ? No dark clouds in the sky ?” -

Her eyes shift about confused, she stands up like a bolt and starts off back to her village.

"A strange kind of thunder...Thunder of the Sun" she thinks

Soon enough Snowbird would learn to recognize the blasts of gunshots for what they really were : the sound of death.

 

[Lonesome Cowboy]

This is the beginning of a longer story. The collection is called "Peace Pipe Broken". Any thoughts ?

 

[Occlith]

I like the story but I would prefer reading it all told in past tense instead of a mix of past and present tenses.

 

[Lonesome Cowboy]

I like the story but I would prefer reading it all told in past tense instead of a mix of past and present tenses.

Great point Occlith (it isn´t actually the whole story, y´know). I´m going to try it. Thanks.

 

[WriterJohnB]

Cowboy,

This is poignant, and not badly written, but I have a few problems with it. You call it the "Swan River Indian Village," yet she has never met a white man, apparently. So why would she think of it as an "Indian" village?

She's running across a prairie and a plain. Where are the limbs from - the ones she's dodging? Are there trees on this prairie? My dict. defines prairie as a wide area of level or rolling grassland.

And horses are not native to America, they came with the Europeans. So I find it odd that you would use the tail of a mustang as a simile. Again, wouldn't she know of white men and their guns, if she knows of horses?

Back to the setting - a "clearing" in a prairie? This seems odd, since a prairie is an open space.

It's all in past tense until the word "shattering." Then it goes to present tense - was this purposeful?

Hope that helps,

JohnB

 

[Lonesome Cowboy]

This is poignant, and not badly written,

Thanks WriterJohn. Appreciate it.

You call it the "Swan River Indian Village," yet she has never met a white man, apparently. So why would she think of it as an "Indian" village?

Good point

She's running across a prairie and a plain. Where are the limbs from - the ones she's dodging?

Imaginary limbs. She´s pretending to be a warrior. Dang! Not clear enough.

It's all in past tense until the word "shattering." Then it goes to present tense - was this purposeful?

Uh-huh.Doesn´t work , eh ?

Hope that helps,

Immensely. Thanks John.

 

[WriterJohnB]

I understand her pretending. But the limbs seem to be tree limbs and come too far after imaginary arrows for imaginary to convey.

The tense works okay, just wanted to point it out, in case it wasn't purposeful.

JohnB

 

[Lonesome Cowboy]

I understand her pretending. But the limbs seem to be tree limbs and come too far after imaginary arrows for imaginary to convey.

JohnB

Spot on John. I´m gonna edit that.

 

[Lonesome Cowboy]

Last Princess of the Swan River Cree (excerpt)

Sprinting across the prairie was always easy for Snowbird. Her long legs never failed to fling her farther and faster across the grassy plains of her home ; the Swan River Indian Village. She imagined she was a mighty Cree warrior of the old legends as she ran pretending to dodge imaginary arrows shot from the bows of monstrous enemies. She ran with lightning speed across the plain, dodging this way and that to avoid fallen imaginary warrior limbs and leaping over low places as if they were fallen horses of old. She blended quite easily into her surroundings, even at such a fast sprint. Her tanned leather boots made no sound on the tall prairie grass and her long hair waved behind her like the tail of a mustang. As she drew closer to the ancient Swan River, she began to slow down, coming to a fast paced walk. Hoping to spend a few minutes in the warm sun, she slowly came to a rest comfortably on the grassy floor of a secluded clearing. Snowbird listened to the prairie whisper to her in the rustling of the grass, the chirping of birds, the crytsal chime of the river. She looked up at the sky, squinting, wrinkling her nose as she shielded her eyes from the bright sun. It was unusualy warm that day; a couple of clouds rolling lazily across the sky. She loved the way the sunlight sprinkled down and bathed the fields in warm light. She gazed at the dozens of tee pees dotting the prairie below, nestled like children in the foothills of the Caribou Mountains. She thought of her family, feeling warm and safe.

Shattering her peaceful reverie, the sound of loud violent thunder ripping across the prairie.

“No rain ? No dark clouds in the sky ?” -

Her eyes shift about confused, she stands up like a bolt and starts off back to her village.

"A strange kind of thunder...Thunder of the Sun" she thinks

Soon enough Snowbird would learn to recognize the blasts of gunshots for what they really were : the sound of death.

This story is an excerpt from "The Last Princess of the Swan River Cree" found in the short story collection "Peace Pipe Broken" by The Lonesome Cowboy.