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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Home is In The Heart - 1. Chapter 1

Home is in the Heart (Part One)

By WL

 

The spectacle of the old American West is one filled with greed and despair. Across the vast stretches of prairies and open fields, there were many men, women, and even children seeking out their own claims to fame, fortune, and a new life. The Northeastern cities and towns were filled by immigrant factory workers and low standards of living. The South had been ravaged by a half decade long war and suppressed by rabid Reconstruction Republican state governments with full military forces backing martial law. The American West was the place to seek freedom from an authoritarian society, heightened further by late 19th century gilded era social classes that seeped into the new industrial caste system.

 

Yet, what most hopeful migrants found in the American West was not freedom, but another form of oppression. It was more insidious than the meager wages of the Northern factories and more pronounced than the sharecropping indebtedness of the Southern Republican carpetbaggers. The land was rich, but the wealth was not their own. Railroads controlled the majority of the prized land for farming and mining through government contracts during the period between the Homestead Act of 1862 and the closing of the frontier in 1893. President Lincoln, Johnson, and Grant each gave excess land to these conglomerates for a piece of the action in a complex economic patron system. Additionally, farmers and miners after they bought land from the railroads needed tools and supplies for their occupations or operations, so the railroads would provide them what they need at a cost-plus interest. The farmers and miners would either repay the railroad in cash or collateral such as a large percentage of harvests and ore would be taken. If they had no collateral, then the debt is moved to escrow and interest is applied keeping such individuals indebted in a vicious cycle. The federal government would receive kickbacks for party bosses and excise taxes from the railroads governing transport of goods.

 

Thus, many average people were indebted to the railroads through one reason or another. Some of these people were originally from the Northern states and did not want to stay a factory dog to some bloated factory owner. Others were from the Southern states and did not want to be a field slaves in the new sharecropping system. There were a few smart individuals that used savvy business sense and the local demands in their areas; they became rich and powerful local figureheads with dubious natures due to their professional associations. Finally, there were a few, who had no classification, because they did not set up a home anywhere. These nomads were deputized as hired hands or hired guns. They were hired by the railroads and the small groups of powerful individuals to keep everyone in check and maintain order. They ranged from ex-soldiers to guns-for-hire nomads, settling slightly, but they were still on the move.

 

The town of Greensville in Utah Territory or State of Deseret, by its local name, was quintessential to this construct of the west. It was located a few miles from the silver mines and was a stopover for the Union Pacific railroad line. The inhabitants had deep fundamental beliefs due to the religious affiliations in the region. The Graham family was one of the leading groups in Greensville; they had about 169 members to the town's population of 942 inhabitants. They owned the local telegraph post, general store, and a multitude of land claims, which they bought from the railroads in a rare power sharing deal that remained undisclosed. The Graham family had deep roots in the Utah Territory up to the territorial Government and militia. The Railroads needed this connection to keep their operations unimpeded by the religious authority.

 

Martin Graham was a teenage boy around 16 years of age; he possessed dark arbor brown hair and sky blue eyes. His life was plotted out for him as the third son to his father's third wife; he would inherit one of his father's plots of land and marry three women, who had impressive dowries and good child bearing signs. All that changed one day, when a stranger came into town.

 

The stranger was in his late 20's or early 30's and had the air of someone even older. He had dirty blond hair and pastoral green eyes. There was no horse or donkey that carried him into town; he walked the distance on foot. He had a large gray sack tied to his shoulder by a small rope. On his holsters, he carried a transitional ‘63 LeMat type pistol .44 cal. on his right and an old ‘60 Colt .44 cal. revolver on his left. He had the smell of grime, dirt, and sweat with the faint scent of blood.

 

Martin was swapping the doorway of the general store, when this man approached him. Martin had shown instances of attraction to certain young men, which his older cousin, Robert, had concealed for certain "special favors". In their culture, sex and lust were reviled in any form, let alone a homosexual lust, which would be an immediate death sentence. Martin gave the quick glance and immediately went back to work, trying to keep the newcomer out of his mind. The stranger also took sight of the boy by the doorway; he also felt the pangs of passions, but he quickly dismissed the notion.

 

The stranger walked up to the counter with his sack up front. Andrew Graham, Martin's powerful looking uncle, had seen this type of maneuver and knew the stranger was there for trade. He also saw the old Colt revolver and LeMat pistols; he knew that this man was likely a veteran. The town needed some more experienced fighter, so he silently thanked God for his good fortune. It would work perfectly for his future plans.

 

"Sir, what are you here to trade?" Andrew asked without a hint of ulterior motive.

 

The stranger unfurled his sack and revealed some buffalo hides, bear skin, and a dozen Indian scalps.

 

"I can pay you $1.50 dollars each for the hides, $3 dollars for the bear skin, and probably $20 dollars for the Indian scalps," Andrew said as he looked at the high quality items.

 

"Sir, the hides and bear skin may be worth very little due to supplies, but these scalps are worth at least $500 per scalp across the border," the stranger chided and began to gather his item for departure.

 

Andrew saw an opportunity to make a profit and add an important individual into their community, "I do not wish to be unreasonable and it is a good thing that you have taken down a dozen of those savages; I will give you $100 dollars per scalp. I will throw in a horse and an invitation to stay here in town; we need more experience fighters to protect our farms from the savages."

 

"I don't need any invitation to stay, sir. I am happy with my current life. If you desire protection, then I am willing to offer my services after you agree to pay me $200 dollars per scalp and $50 dollars a day on top of the place to stay and I get to keep the horse if I should desire to leave," the stranger said.

 

Andrew felt like he had made a good bargain, the scalps alone are worth well over $700 dollars apiece and he needed someone for their plans, "I agree to everything and you will be staying in my brother's farm loft. I will send Martin to deliver the news. By the way, the name is Andrew Graham. I am the mayor of Greensville and Apostle of our local Assembly, if you were wondering, who just hired you."

 

The stranger laughed heartily with bashfulness, "Figured you for an authority figure; your whiskers are finer than General Jackson's before First Manassas. My name is James. I ain't got any titles."

 

Martin was sent to deliver the news to his father Abraham Graham, who was working on one of his farm plots. Abraham was a simple man, who acquiesced to his older brother's demands like an order from God himself. A few of his wives were preparing the room in the farm loft and gathering some water for bathing the stranger.

 

James entered the farm property later in the day, where Abraham and his wives greeted him with small pleasantries. James was a bit uncomfortable with the hubbub that his arrival had created, but he tried to keep his gentlemanly ways and accepted this warm welcome.

 

In the evening, Martin had just returned from his daily "Mutual" meetings mandated for a young member of the Church. Martin was told by his father that he should do whatever was necessary to welcome the stranger into the community. Martin went to the farm loft and wanted to make formal introductions.

 

Martin entered the stranger's room in the loft and came upon him completely naked. Though a decade older than Martin, James was still at the peak of his development. His muscular arms and legs were contrasted with a tight hairy torso. There were several evident scars that covered his mid-section; yet, Martin only saw his natural beauty and none of the harsher experiences that James most likely lived through.

 

"What are you looking at?" James screamed as he noticed the boy was staring at him and he saw the unmistakable features of arousal.

 

"I...Umm...I am here to help you with whatever you may need," Martin said, quite frightful at the spectacle of the beautiful man in front of him and his own arousal.

 

"Your ma or one of your mommas had been gracious enough to fill a tub of water for a bath, so get out of here before I tell your folks that their son has unclean thoughts," James said. James had a keen sense of people and knew his initial feelings about this boy were correct. Yet, James wasn't homophobic and he would never deliver on such a threat, but he wanted to avoid temptation from this sexually impressive teenage boy. There were things that James had not gotten over or forgiven from his previous life. The last thing he wanted was to have a torrid affair with a local in some religious town, where he might end up being hung by his privates.

 

Martin was scared that his secret would be revealed to his family and tried to leave the farm loft. However, he accidentally tripped on the LeMat pistol and shot himself, which resulted in James getting out his much needed bath to inspect him with a towel wrapped across his waistline.

 

Martin was told by James to lie down and James undid Martin's trousers to see the damage, which he hoped was not too severe. LeMat pistols are well renowned for their miniature grape shot feature like a shotgun, which could shoot scatter fragment bullets at targets resulting in grave injuries. Luckily, James had switched the shooting mode to single shot, which he knew raised the chances of the kid's survival if he was hit directly.

 

"Damn it Kid, haven't your pap or ma teach you how to handle a gun safely?" James angrily asked and eyed the mark on Martin's thigh with relief as it was simply a skin shot, "Sweet Jesus, you got lucky kid; I've seen LeMat shots that made a big ole' hole through a man's leg. He could've lived, but the doc thought the leg would get infected, so they cut it off. The guy kept asking for some whiskey, but they damn ran out after Cold Harbor, so they operated on him without anything to drink. He died in the operating tent. If I ever had to be operated on like that; I'd give my other leg to the devil for his strongest shot of bourbon and tonic."

 

Martin listened to the colorful story and was happy to have this strapping blond guy over him inspecting him. James noted that Martin had developed a bulge in his undergarments and he could feel his own surging forward beneath the towel. James pulled himself off Martin and headed back toward his bath.

 

Martin was puzzled by the abrupt change and said, "Hey, what about me? I was just shot."

 

James tried to act untouched and responded, "You'll live and probably be a bit smarter when you're around another man's gun. You never know when it might go off."

 

***

 

Through the next few days, Martin couldn't get his thoughts away from this stranger. There's an old saying, "you want the things that you can never get". All his life, he wanted to live free from the constraints of his family, his town, and his all encompassing religion. This stranger was his own man; he was something rare, an outsider.

 

For a reason beyond his comprehension, Martin didn't want James to become part of the town; he wanted the man to remain as he is.

 

***

 

James had heard tales about Utah and the odd religious order that dominated the region, but he did not know how different things were than what he was use to. Going to church on Sunday and saying grace before supper were fine, but the townsfolk were attending church almost 2-3 times a day. Everything was done with a slight religious tone to it, people were humming hymns during work, giving thanks for every little detail of life, and the women seem to be much more like servants rather than wives to their husband.

 

To further James' issues, he was feeling ever more drawn to Martin Graham, who he had gotten to know better as the boy was assigned to him. At first, James felt uneasy as he knew the boy was directed to him for the purposes of missionary conversion work. Martin expressed himself well, but there was no pressure or push for James to be a permanent convert to their church. Both felt at ease with one another and enjoyed the other's anecdotes on life. If anyone was being converted, it would be Martin, who adored the stories of life on the road and descriptions of beautiful vistas, raging rivers, and mountain lions. James was embellishing the stories a bit, but Martin didn't care, nor did James. They enjoyed each other's company.

 

During most days, James would be directed by Andrew Graham to train some town's people on shooting and some light military training. James felt uneasy about Andrew as he figured there was more to this training than protection when Andrew produced some Napoleon 12 pounders, which James knew was overkill against the lightly armed native Ute tribes in the area.

 

***

 

One day, Martin was walking home from his work at the general store, when suddenly his cousin Robert Graham surprised him from behind.

 

"So, how is the abomination doing today?" Robert said gruffly as he roughly grabbed Martin's arm.

 

"Let me go, Robert" Martin protested as he felt his cousin pushing him toward a patch of thickets. Martin knew what Robert wanted from him, but he did not wish to be used by his cousin in such a way. Yet, he had no choice; Robert would reveal his secret to the entire town and he would end up dead before sunset. Robert was older, married to several young women, and Andrew Graham was his father. There may be no fixed social structure in the West or Greenville, but power was still respected and Robert could do as he desired with immunity based on these facts.

 

Martin at one time admired his older cousin to the point of developing a certain kind of love. His cousin saw Martin continuously eying him and he knew exactly what Martin wanted. Truth be told, Robert could not express his own emotions well due to his own rationalizations of his desires. From a young age, Robert had seen the trappings of power through his father and emulated Andrew's nature of manipulation and control to an extent. Robert also took his own moral standing before his own desires; he had no love for the women he married, he treated them simply as servants or pets. Finding that Martin had similar predilections to his own, Robert treated Martin as he would any one of his wives, because he had no other point of reference for such a relationship.

 

Today, Robert had his carnal desires flare up as he had in times past. At the secluded spot in the thickets, Robert stopped and pushed Martin to the ground. Martin gave no more protest, no more ecstatic pleas, and no more prayers for divine intervention. Martin stripped off his clothing and his cousin did the same.

 

Many things were felt that day: joy, despair, desire, want, comfort, and pain, but there was something neither felt, love.

 

***

 

Cavalry tactics are supremely delicate. Two opposing lines of infantry are simple by comparison, when you factor in the precision timing and teamwork each cavalry unit must develop for an attack with mobility. General J.E.B Stuart knew that the key to cavalry displacement was in teamwork between unit leaders.

 

James had to train men not simply to aim and shoot, but work together and support each other during battle situations as Stuart had taught him. Andrew watched his new military adviser training his people in advanced cavalry tactics. James knew there was more to this advanced training than simple protection and he was suspicious of Andrew's intentions, especially after inquiring James to train his men on use of the "Napoleon" field guns. By the end of the war, every soldier would have some training on Artillery use and mounting even if he was not assigned to that unit. Artillery is more often used for offense than for defensive actions, which James knew from experience. Yet, James dutifully collected his high pay everyday from Andrew at the General store without question.

 

On the same day that Martin had succumbed to Robert's lust; Andrew revealed the goal to James.

 

"James, I trust you to lead these men on a raid of an incoming wagon train to the state of Deseret," Andrew told James during the daily money exchange with ordinary conversational tone.

 

"What do you mean by raid?" James asked suspiciously.

 

"I want you to kill everyone in that wagon train," Andrew said keeping his ordinary tone.

 

"I ain't got any problem with killin', but why kill these folks? They've done nothin' to y'all," James asked with an inquisitive and surprised tone.

 

"They're Yankee homesteaders with veteran land grants from the Republican government; I think you would understand that I am trying to protect our way of life. The damn Yankees are moving west again, they are bringing with them their science and ways. I must protect my people from these ruffians. They are like locusts; wherever they appear, no one will ever prosper. This land must be kept within our hands as God had intended like Moses and the Promised Land. I guessed from the moment I saw you that you were a former Confederate; the LeMat pistol told me you were a cavalryman. You have no love for them, so why not join me?" Andrew told James. Andrew was sly in his word choices and knew what exactly would incite a man like James to action.

 

"I'll need to know how well armed they are," James asked. James remembered what happened to his native state, his fallen friends, and more. There was still a strong lingering hatred for what he experienced through war and he had never fully exercised his demons.

 

The initial plan was to scout out the numbers in the wagon train and strategize on how to face them. Andrew explicitly asked James to locate and recover "the writs of land" that the government had granted the homesteading veterans.

 

***

 

James journeyed back to his farm loft on the youthful stallion that he had been compensated with. The horse was tamed from the start, perhaps too tamed at the age of two. James knew that a horse should have more spirit in him than simply a mode of transportation. It's one reason he preferred horses to a locomotive. In his mind, a machine does not have the peculiar living instinct that horses have with their owners. There is an inherent spirit within a horse like that of man, which enables it to exceed expectations and go beyond its implied potentials. A machine is fixed and designed to run on such an amount of fuel or travel at such a speed, but it does not feel the need to go faster or work harder.

 

While some trainers and tamers would argue that a stallion should be broken at a young age to offset the wild temperament, the methods of the Greenville residents were far too similar to their religious doctrines in treatment. In addition to treating the horses as "moral" individuals, they went further and pushed the horses to observe a similar code of conduct including sexual rules of conduct. If the stallions violate the rules of conduct, then they would be spaded and turned into Geldings for farming purposes instead of riding. Very few horses could pass the test of feminine attraction with a celibate attitude. This horse was different; he could adapt and meet the challenges.

 

The day James came to Greenville and received his compensation for the Indian scalps; the two beings met. They were not a match made in heaven. The stallion was sluggish at times and James would berate the horse non-stop due to its shortcomings. Still, both master and horse grew to bond with each other.

 

As he arrived at his destination, he could distinctly hear a strange soft sound. It was a sound he had heard many times before in the military camps of Northern Virginia. No one knows what is happening during a war, no one know how they're families are doing, or anything else, so some soldiers succumb to a quiet wail over their unknowns. Some people consider this stoic military honor, because you do not cry your heart out like any common man faced with such circumstances.

 

James approached the doorway and he could see that Martin had climbed toward the highest window of the loft. James did not know what to say or do, because it was obvious this young man was unhappy. Martin had heard James come into the loft and began making the movement to climb down.

 

"I'm sorry, James. I usually come here, when things happen." Martin said as he continued his descent, but suddenly his foot slipped and he only had a weak grip on the wooden plank. Seeing the developing situation, James rushed toward the probable location of Martin's eventual fall. Everything moved seamlessly as Martin lost his last grip on the old wooden plank and fell quickly. Martin thought he would be going to hell due to his perversions and he had accepted that fate for himself.

 

As Martin crash landed, he felt something strong and hard supporting him. It was strange feeling like a baby being embraced by his parent's arm during the first moments of birth. Martin had accepted death in the split second and fully welcomed it, but he was given another chance at life.

 

"Damn it, kid, do you have a death wish or somethin'?" James spoke as he locked his eyes on the boy in his arms. He gazed at the twinkling eyes of the youth as if he saw someone from his past. Memories came back in a flutter: some happy and some sad. There were moments of love, but they were overlapped by a single eternity of despair.

 

As James looked into his own soul, Martin stared back at the man supporting him. How long has he been waiting for someone, who truly cared for him not due to religion, familial obligation, or lust? He was ready to die, but this man saved him. Does he care for him as much as Martin hoped?

 

James realized too late that he could not support the boy any longer. While most people would instinctively drop their heavy burdens, James fell onto his own back to make sure Martin had a softer landing on top of him.

 

For James, it was strange to have another person on top of his body again, especially a handsome male. He felt many emotions towards this boy; there was the sexual desire, but he felt a tenderness that has been missing for years. For Martin, this experience was entirely different than what he was used to with his cousin Robert, who usually dominated their activities, both nominal and sexual. With James, there was something else that he could not describe.

 

James couldn't handle the tension anymore and made the move that he wanted to make at their first encounter. His arms circled around Martin's body and drew it closer. Then, he kissed Martin with long forgotten passion. Martin for his part returned the first kiss with his own longing desires.

 

There was excitement, but there was uncertainty, "So what now?" Martin asked.

 

"You gotta come with me," James said as he gently shifted Martin off his body. In moments, they were outside of the loft and mounted on the young stallion. James was carrying a small pouch as they rode off.

 

***

 

The mountain Ute were a peaceful and spiritual people before the onset of territorial struggles from migrations of both eastern Native Americans and white settlers. Over time, they learned the skills of war and the white man's ways. Numerous attempts were made by the white settlers to convert them to their various religious observations and practices with very little results. The residents of Greenville considered these people as godless savages and the territorial government paid bounties on the Ute tribesmen. Not all the Ute members sought to struggle against the white settlers, but their existence was enough to inspire disdain from the religious institution that held the territory.

 

A village of no more than 200 inhabitants was located a few miles from Greenville. The inhabitants were not surprised to see James ride into their settlement around sunset as he had done so many times before.

 

Martin was frightened by the sight of these natives with a range of well sculpted bodies and less idyllic figures due to dietary intake. It was Martin's first visit to a Ute village and the only thing he knew about these people were sermons from his uncle Andrew on "the godless savages". James dismounted from his horse and Martin followed with a face of awe and trepidation. James instinctively knew the "wickiup" or native home that they needed to enter for his usual meetings. There was a small indoor fire and a set of decorative pottery that had deep ceremonial meaning adjacent to the walls of the native home. James sat down on the ground cross legged and Martin followed his example. Martin was visibly flustered.

 

"Don't you worry nothin', these folks are the nice and kind sort," James started telling Martin.

 

"They're savages! They might kill us and scalp us for trophies," Martin responded with fear.

 

"They're honest and noble," James told his young friend.

 

"But, you killed them, too" Martin said with the memory of their first encounter coming to his mind.

 

"Well, I persuaded the chief to give me a few of their dead member's scalps to help out their village. Many of them are dyin' due to disease like cholera and they need medicine, but they got no money. I've been helpin' them out with the majority of the monies that I make from tradin' and sellin' each month" James revealed to Martin, who was surprised by the kindness that Martin exhibited.

 

"Why did you do that? I don't understand," Martin asked with a puzzled look.

 

"I support them, ‘cause they are tryin' to protect their own against others tryin' to end their way of life. Your people are doin' the same thing in trying to fight off the Yankee settlers just like these folks. I think both of you are continuing a fight that began in Carolina. Look beyond the issue of slaves and what you really get from our recent civil war was an issue of one people forcin' their beliefs on another. Slavery may not have been just and I won't argue that it was right to put people in chains, but most southerners didn't even have a single slave. The average soldier just wanted to protect what they had in life; we just wanted to live. Yeah, a few of the Negros was mistreated by sadistic masters, but all in all, it was better than the alternative. We valued the Negro as individuals far more than the average Yankee, who valued them as a race due to their potential for "free" labor in their factories and votes in their polling booths. We were defendin' our homes, our principles, and our lives. These Yankee Republicans keep sayin' things like "southerners are depraved for allowing such unequal treatment to his fellow man". Well, look back at what y'all been doing with the blacks; you restrict them from jobs and educations. You want them to become your lowly factory workers, who are paid just enough for a loaf of bread and somewhere to stay. What's the difference between slavery on a farm with a handful of southern planters providing food and shelter or laboring for Northern factory owners, who provide limited money for limited food and limited shelter? Nothin' at all" James responded in anger.

 

Martin had not made the connection between James' speech pattern and his knowledge of warfare until that moment. The Civil War was a distant conflict to Martin, who had only heard about it in passing from family members during his childhood. He did not know the complex factors behind the war and the decades of antagonism between north and south, but what he had heard and learned about the Yankee settlers coming out west scared him enough to accept James' speech without question.

 

A burly man entered the "wickiup"; he had decorative feathers on his head and a coat of fine fur, which stated his position within the tribe.

 

"Maiku, Ja-mes," the man said.

 

"Maiku, Chief Burning Sun," James respectfully gave a half bow.

 

Burning Sun spoke broken English, which Martin understood to an extent. Burning Sun was thanking James for the help that he had rendered; he also told James about the state militia crackdown that has been going on and the encroachment of the Navajo tribes to the west on their hunting grounds.

 

The chief eyed Martin during the conversation with a strong tone asking who this boy was to James. James' reply was an unpronounceable native term, which caught the chief's attention.

 

After the rough overview, the conversation lasted briefly and an older native man came in with a strange pipe. Martin had heard of the Indian use of tobacco, which is strictly forbidden under the "Word of Wisdom". It is a point that he heard from his uncle and others; among other points, why the native tribes are godless savages.

 

The old man began grinding some herbs in a bowl, which he presented to the Burning Sun with the strange pipe. Ute pipes are similar to Sioux pipes in their construction, but they have a brighter red pipestone with artistic designs based on their unique culture. Tobacco is just one of many herbs mixed into the smoking concoction.

 

As the chief was presented with the pipe, he stroked a fiery ember and lit the pipe.

 

Martin was visibly nervous, "James, I am prohibited from smoking tobacco or anything."

 

James was about to speak, but the old native man spoke first in near perfect English, "The stem with the fire spirit represents father and the stone bowl with the plants of the earth spirit represents mother. Together, they are used to create life and hope for the cycles that follow us. We join here to bind our spirits and speak of good things for the future."

 

For a moment, Martin understood the entirety of this native man's logic. The idea of creation from the essence of life was a remarkable revelation to Martin, who had been taught to accept life simply as it is through God's own creation. From this man's simple explanation, Martin began a new train thought. Life and creation is not merely godly; it is a living expression of hope for each individual in his own time.

 

***

 

Days followed after the incident in the Ute village, Martin felt different from the experience. He had felt like he grew taller, he could see further, and he knew better than before. While Martin's mind expanded beyond his surroundings, James had been inundated with scouting reports of the raid.

 

The wagon train composed of 72 Yankee settlers with 26 armed veterans and 5 hired guns. The majority of the wagon train was made up of women and children, but no one made any instinctual reservation as to the possibility of collateral casualties. Engaging this band of settlers were 23 armed militiamen from Greenville with 4 Napoleon field guns. Andrew did not want to spark a federal response from the attack on the wagon train, so he ordered complete eradication of any evidence, except the writs of land. While the settlers outnumbered the attackers, they did not have artillery or the training in cavalry tactics that James had imbued in his team.

 

The setting was made for the most momentous and silent event in Greeneville's history. Peoples, traditions, cultures, societies, and life will change for everyone involved.

Copyright © 2011 W_L; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

This has excellent bones, I promise you that I'm liking it alot. I do have a few issues though:

 

"Martin was scared that his secret would be revealed to his family and tried to leave the farm loft. However, he accidentally tripped on the LeMat pistol and shot himself, which resulted in James getting out his much needed bath to inspect him with a towel wrapped across his waistline.

 

Martin was told by James to lie down and James undid Martin's trousers to see the damage, which he hoped was not too severe. LeMat pistols are well renowned for their miniature grape shot feature like a shotgun, which could shoot scatter fragment bullets at targets resulting in grave injuries. Luckily, James had switched the shooting mode to single shot, which he knew raised the chances of the kid's survival if he was hit directly."

 

 

This section really stood out for me. The reason? Your really trying very hard to tell us what's happening. I understand you have all this infomation about the time in your head and you want to make this as real as possible but this is fiction, it's always better to show rather than tell where you can.

 

The pacing is also very...VERY fast, I actully had to read a few things a number of times to see if ther ewas was some missing paragraphs.

 

Appart from that I feel the need to argue about the causes of the civil war (I wont because...it's fiction, the charater said it and this isn't role play XD) and the fact that I really feel for that poor horse (1 person on a two year old colt, especially a heavy muscled man would do a decent amount of physical and probably mental damage to the beast let alone 2) and that I can't figure out why the "trained solider" would leave possibly his most prized possession, his gun, lying around ready to be triped on, I do like this story. I haven't read anythig even closely like it, I just feel the bone's need, should have even, a bit more meat on them, they deserve it. Personal opinions.

 

 

  • Like 1
On 03/13/2011 11:45 PM, CausticOddity said:
This has excellent bones, I promise you that I'm liking it alot. I do have a few issues though:

 

"Martin was scared that his secret would be revealed to his family and tried to leave the farm loft. However, he accidentally tripped on the LeMat pistol and shot himself, which resulted in James getting out his much needed bath to inspect him with a towel wrapped across his waistline.

 

Martin was told by James to lie down and James undid Martin's trousers to see the damage, which he hoped was not too severe. LeMat pistols are well renowned for their miniature grape shot feature like a shotgun, which could shoot scatter fragment bullets at targets resulting in grave injuries. Luckily, James had switched the shooting mode to single shot, which he knew raised the chances of the kid's survival if he was hit directly."

 

 

This section really stood out for me. The reason? Your really trying very hard to tell us what's happening. I understand you have all this infomation about the time in your head and you want to make this as real as possible but this is fiction, it's always better to show rather than tell where you can.

 

The pacing is also very...VERY fast, I actully had to read a few things a number of times to see if ther ewas was some missing paragraphs.

 

Appart from that I feel the need to argue about the causes of the civil war (I wont because...it's fiction, the charater said it and this isn't role play XD) and the fact that I really feel for that poor horse (1 person on a two year old colt, especially a heavy muscled man would do a decent amount of physical and probably mental damage to the beast let alone 2) and that I can't figure out why the "trained solider" would leave possibly his most prized possession, his gun, lying around ready to be triped on, I do like this story. I haven't read anythig even closely like it, I just feel the bone's need, should have even, a bit more meat on them, they deserve it. Personal opinions.

 

Thanks for reading, I thought no one had liked it, so I basically abandoned the story a year ago and went straight for my Sci-fi story, Exodus. If you want I can keep on going to what I had intended earlier.
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