LuridTales
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 26, 2012
- Posts
- 123
Broken Wing, South Dakota (OPEN)
The sun was hanging low in the sky as the stage coach neared Broken Wing, South Dakota. The hills surrounding the down blocked off half of the orange sun, but its rays still leeched up into the darkening purple sky. Sky Hawkings could see it all through the windows of the stage coach. It had been two long weeks since Rapid City, in the company of The Reverend and Mrs. Henry Smith. They were an earnest young couple, looking to start a mission to the Indians, and Sky wished them the best, even if he did think them the bloodiest of fools he had meet, since leaving his native England.
The good reverend had a hawkish nose and fine black hair. His sallow skin and weak shoulders were fine for the pulpit, but Sky doubted he was ready for the West. In deed, he had been sick most of the trip and was looking the worse for it. His bride, Sarah Anne, was a more sensible sort, in his mind, with her blond hair in a bun and bonnet and with her nimble fingers, which could sow a straight line, even while the stage coach was moving. Sky hoped that she could reign in her man's tenancy to believe that miracles would take care of all of their needs, before they both ended up dead on the point of a spear.
Sky himself was on his way to meet a living legend of the West, one Johnny Eagle, a half breed Indian who had been a notorious Indian fighter, gambler, scout and gun slinger. He hoped to get the man's real story. So many dime novels and magazine articles had been written about him, with so many exaggerations. Sky hoped that he could preserve the real deeds and thoughts of the old man, before he was lost to the next generation.
Sky had been traveling the West for the New York World, for ten years now, sending back sensational reports and thoroughly enjoying himself. He dressed the part of a Western man now, with a wide brimmed hat, a buttoned down checker shirt, a white banana and sturdy brown trousers. His feet were shod in cowboy boots and a six shooter hung at his side. The only thing off about him was his gold pocket watch, his brown vest and his wire rimmed spectacles. Sky's blond hair was cropped short, as was his trimmed mustache. He had a straight, aristocratic nose and high cheek bones, above a cleft chin. His big blue eyes peer out at the sunset, watching it Sol finally fall below the tip of a hill.
The good Revered was sleeping, with his head on his chest, and his wife was using the last bit of light to finish up the seems on a handkerchief. She sighed as the light left. "Well, that is that. I do suppose we are almost there, don't you, Mr. Hawkings?
Sky turned to smile at her. "Yes, Mrs. Smith. I do believe that I could just see the outline in the distance just now. Maybe another twenty minutes, and you lovely folk will be at the hotel." He did not hold out hope that any hotel would be up to the standards that these folks deserved, but he had observed their willingness to sacrifice and go without, during the journey. Sometimes he wished that he believed in anything quite so much, but at other times he felt relief that he did not.
http://i1056.photobucket.com/albums/t368/misterjonkennedy/silhouette-of-cowboy-and-horse.jpg
OOC: Please IM me with a writing link before joining in. I have no specific expectations for this thread, nor do I have a certain number of people in mind. What I do want to see is descriptive writing, era appropriate dialogue and attitudes and character development. If I do not respond to you within a short time, be patient with me. My life is busy, which is why I have decided to look for a board which caters to smaller threads, rather than the large games on yahoo groups, which I am used to. I will always respond within 24 hours, but that is all which can be promised.
The sun was hanging low in the sky as the stage coach neared Broken Wing, South Dakota. The hills surrounding the down blocked off half of the orange sun, but its rays still leeched up into the darkening purple sky. Sky Hawkings could see it all through the windows of the stage coach. It had been two long weeks since Rapid City, in the company of The Reverend and Mrs. Henry Smith. They were an earnest young couple, looking to start a mission to the Indians, and Sky wished them the best, even if he did think them the bloodiest of fools he had meet, since leaving his native England.
The good reverend had a hawkish nose and fine black hair. His sallow skin and weak shoulders were fine for the pulpit, but Sky doubted he was ready for the West. In deed, he had been sick most of the trip and was looking the worse for it. His bride, Sarah Anne, was a more sensible sort, in his mind, with her blond hair in a bun and bonnet and with her nimble fingers, which could sow a straight line, even while the stage coach was moving. Sky hoped that she could reign in her man's tenancy to believe that miracles would take care of all of their needs, before they both ended up dead on the point of a spear.
Sky himself was on his way to meet a living legend of the West, one Johnny Eagle, a half breed Indian who had been a notorious Indian fighter, gambler, scout and gun slinger. He hoped to get the man's real story. So many dime novels and magazine articles had been written about him, with so many exaggerations. Sky hoped that he could preserve the real deeds and thoughts of the old man, before he was lost to the next generation.
Sky had been traveling the West for the New York World, for ten years now, sending back sensational reports and thoroughly enjoying himself. He dressed the part of a Western man now, with a wide brimmed hat, a buttoned down checker shirt, a white banana and sturdy brown trousers. His feet were shod in cowboy boots and a six shooter hung at his side. The only thing off about him was his gold pocket watch, his brown vest and his wire rimmed spectacles. Sky's blond hair was cropped short, as was his trimmed mustache. He had a straight, aristocratic nose and high cheek bones, above a cleft chin. His big blue eyes peer out at the sunset, watching it Sol finally fall below the tip of a hill.
The good Revered was sleeping, with his head on his chest, and his wife was using the last bit of light to finish up the seems on a handkerchief. She sighed as the light left. "Well, that is that. I do suppose we are almost there, don't you, Mr. Hawkings?
Sky turned to smile at her. "Yes, Mrs. Smith. I do believe that I could just see the outline in the distance just now. Maybe another twenty minutes, and you lovely folk will be at the hotel." He did not hold out hope that any hotel would be up to the standards that these folks deserved, but he had observed their willingness to sacrifice and go without, during the journey. Sometimes he wished that he believed in anything quite so much, but at other times he felt relief that he did not.
http://i1056.photobucket.com/albums/t368/misterjonkennedy/silhouette-of-cowboy-and-horse.jpg
OOC: Please IM me with a writing link before joining in. I have no specific expectations for this thread, nor do I have a certain number of people in mind. What I do want to see is descriptive writing, era appropriate dialogue and attitudes and character development. If I do not respond to you within a short time, be patient with me. My life is busy, which is why I have decided to look for a board which caters to smaller threads, rather than the large games on yahoo groups, which I am used to. I will always respond within 24 hours, but that is all which can be promised.
Last edited:
