Postcard Pen Pal Hal-
Hello Wa’am! I saw a magical ritual the other day in the Badlands. Ponder this while sucking on your cigar… silent culling of bison. At the Badlands National Park, the workers are very careful to be quiet and calm, more reverent than a Catholic mass, as they coax the bison into the shoot. No hollering cowboy tricks. No fancy gun show. No demonstration of man conquering beast. Your pal, Hal
What inspiration for a sweet short story. My creative response, Hal:
His grandfather called him Light Foot, for he never cracked a stick or announced his presence with any sound. His mother called him a ghost under her breath, but she suffered from migraines. Autumn dried the grasses of the plains and challenged the silence of his tribe friends, but Light Foot could touch the backside of a bison without the beast flinching. Autumn also meant harvest time. Time to harvest crops yes, but also the bison. And a silent harvest always brought home the sweetest meat. The trick was honoring the bison harvest in proper time without the hassle of the cowboy folk. And that required special planning, working with the new moon, and a visit to the medicine man. I am his white friend, June. I can only watch from a distance.
You are right, Hal. I need to ponder this more over some research, wine, and sweet tobacco smoke. Thank you for the correspondence and don’t take too long to write me again. Your friend, Wa’am
Friends, I could take this so many ways. Where are you? Do you like sending postcards too? Or can you write your pen pal in fewer than 100 words from a new place?