Hello my dear readers, great to connect with you all again.
I’m pretty happy right now to announce that not only have I passed a Financial Exam (so that’s taken some pressure of my wearisome work life) but I’ve managed to write the first draft of Episode One of my detective story that I’m writing with the great Michael Robertson.
(If you didn’t catch my last post about his debut novel then check it out here – Blog update and new debut novel Crash by Michael Robertson)
This is very important to me, since it is the first time I have written a story longer than three thousand words. With ten thousand words in the bag, first draft or not this thing is starting to take serious shape, gaining wings and picking up speed on the runway.
However, all work and no play makes for something, something – I feel like I need to give you gals and guys something, it has been a while and I don’t want you ending up like this!:-
I have been meaning to do some more poetry and that will follow soon but I have something totally different in mind for now.
As I’ve been so inspired by listening to Tomahawk’s ‘Anonymous’ album many times, I’ve written you all a piece where we could escape into the world of a Native American Indian tribe. Why not listen to the album here and then buy if you like it, it is both eclectic and simply terrific:-
And now for the story itself, I really hope you enjoy it and please feel free to comment below, as they are always very much appreciated.
Traditional Reservations (By David Ellis)
“The role of a woman is not limited to remaining inside her home!” Anpaytoo grumbled.
She glared despondently into the cooking pot.
“I am his other half, I make him whole, I should be out there with him!”
“Hush now Anpaytoo.” Enapay the Brave, her father, sat cross legged meditating and waved his hand dismissively.
“But father, he has been gone for hours, what has become of him? Why will you not allow me to go to him? I am strong, capable, a warrior and a dedicated wife!”
“You are many things and have many talents my child. But you are also what the Sioux’s call ‘Teetonka’ – you talk too much about this. He was named Akecheta by his father because he is a great fighter. He can look after himself among the wasichu, the white man. Help your noble Akecheta by being a good wife to him, he will return soon, triumphantly bestowing pride upon our great tribe.”
Anpaytoo petulantly bit her lip and stroked the locket that had been given to her by Akecheta as a token of his affection. He had acquired it off an Englishman, in exchange for his own hard labour.
Akecheta told her he had worked for many weeks to afford it, such trinkets being hard to come by for their self-sufficient tribe.
“I must go and see him now!”Anpaytoo jumped up and headed for the door.
“Sit down Anpaytoo! Respect your elders, wait patiently for your husband and follow the Lakota ways.” Enapay glared at her and she shrank back into her seat like a wilting flower.
Had Anpaytoo stepped out of the tepee at that precise moment, she would have noticed the amber bracelet she exchanged with Akecheta at their wedding ceremony floating ominously down the communal river.
The bracelet was then swiftly followed by an ornate dagger, the markings on which were distinctly English in origin.
The river ran pearly pale pink for a few moments, just like the carnation Anpaytoo wore in her soft, delicate hair then it ran clear again and the dagger was gone.
“I miss him so much.” Anpaytoo stroked her belly thoughtfully. “Yet I feel he will always be here with me.”
“He will be here soon child, have a little faith.”
“Father, you know best I guess. This is the tribal way. I will wait for an eternity if I have to.”
He nodded sagely and smiled “The Lakota way.”
They didn’t have to wait an eternity for Akecheta to enter their lives again but by then time had healed past wounds and revenge was the last thing on their minds.
“What should we call him Father?”
“Takoda would be perfect child, for one side must always show peace and compassion, despite the past. He will make good friends and form strong alliances.”
Things would never be the same in their world but tradition would see them through.
Tradition is everything, especially when it comes to family.