The Head-Splitters. (Part One)

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Westerns  |  House: Booksie Classic
A family is unexpectedly ambushed by a particularly wild band of Native American Indians in the Old West.

Submitted: June 13, 2017

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Submitted: June 13, 2017




I am going to have to do all I possibly can to protect my family.  Seems that there's danger lurking just outside our front door.

There have been reports from people that Indians have taken over the countryside: they are advising us to stay indoors: to go outside would be downright dangerous, possibly even fatal, to those who might inadvertantly encounter these uncivilized savages who have only one thing on their minds: death and destruction.

The Indians who are reputed to be outside are said to be from a tribe of particularly wild Indians rightfully known as "The Head-Splitters".  They will stop at nothing to kill a person just as soon as they catch sight of them or even look at them for only a brief moment.  That's how nasty they are.

We know that they are near: we can smell them.  They smell like a combination of dirt, sweat, unwashed bodies, and smoke.  They have an extremely strong odor abou tthem.  They must be surrounding our cabin, for the smell never goes away: it strikes fear and terror in all our hearts.  

My wife and I have covered up the windows and barred the doors by shoving heavy objects against it, so the Indians can't possibly get inside.  We have made allowances to cover up the chimney so they can't drop down unexpectedly and surprise us.  We know that this only a temporary solution; these Indians are smart and will do all they possibly can to gain their way in and get us.

They want nothing more than to see us dead ... or perhaps kidnap our sons and daughter, to hopefully turn them into members of their tribe and then our own children will end up hating us.

I have seen a person who has been scalped: it was several months back.  A man had encountered a tribe of Indians and the Indian who did this, the scalping, nearly buried his tomahawk into the poor man's skull.  It was a bloody, disgusting sight.  Ever since, I have feared the Indians, and I have feared that my very own family will end up next on their death list.

Every noise, every movement startles my wife and the kids hide underneath her skirts.  Our kids are just little: our oldest, our daughter, is only nine; our sons, meanwhile, are five and nearly two.  We did have another son, but he was killed by a stray bullet when he and a pal were fooling around with his friend's pa's musket rifle and it discharged, striking my son right in the face.  He died just moments later.  Had he lived, he would have been fourteen now; this happened five years ago.  I miss him ......

I don't know what is going to happen, but I and  my wife are going to do all we possibly can to protect our family!!

*End of part one!*

© Copyright 2018 Karen Lynn. All rights reserved.

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